AN: Later than I intended...but here's Chapter 36 for you glen coco

Falling Webs

When Hermione woke up, it was to the mattress bouncing as Fred collapsed next to her. He had looked exhausted when they arrived back at the shop in the early morning hours, and if he was only coming to bed now she could only imagine how tired he actually felt.

"Did you have to go hull water from the Thames?" Hermione asked, rolling on to her side to look at the damage. His eyes looked like they were on the verge of glazing over, red haze making his blue eyes even more pronounced. And his face—he hadn't shaved in Mallorca, so he had the makings of a two day scruff that made him look even more worn.

"Have you ever heard of Falcon Post?" He croaked from his pillow. "They don't take it well when you don't open their letter. Nearly took off my finger when I tried to ignore it," he shifted, now rolling on his side, reaching for her hand. "Makes Harry's owl seem down right indifferent to a response."

Hermione chuckled, reaching for the hand with a wrapped finger, brushing the bandage. "What did the letter say to keep you up this late?"

His fingers locked in her own and she noticed the change in his eyes. The look made her feel uneasy. There was genuine worry now in his face. She hadn't seen that in a while. Not since Dumbledore's funeral when she thought about breaking up with him.

But he locked his jaw and kept his voice even, "It was a letter from Bill. They're going to start asking patrons to declare blood status when they're at Gringotts," he said simply."Right now it's just declaring it, but if the Death Eaters are brave enough to do that—"

"Then it won't be long before they start asking at other places," Hermione finished, looking at him knowingly.

They lay there for a moment and the reality of it all sank in. She had known this was going to happen, but now that it actually was she didn't know why she felt so targeted. Singled out. As though she had done something wrong. It was like she was a child accidentally sent to the Head Teachers office all over again. But she knew—she knew what still laid ahead.

And it's only going to go downhill from here.

"So after a letter like that, I stayed up making passports," Fred said, his hand still in hers. "We know what's about to happen, we can expedite the passports and get the kids out before it gets worse. George and I have a list of eight or so—mostly kids from the DA. We can get them out and then start on the others."

"How are we going to do it?" She asked, "We can't just knock on their doors and tell their parents they need to flee the country—it'll cause a panic."

"Well if we just wait for the Ministry to gather a register it'll be too late, the kids will have to go on the run and the parents won't know where they've gone." He countered, "What do you suggest?"

"You'll need someone who knows muggle customs. Someone who can spin the parents a story so they support the idea," Hermione said, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Are you volunteering?" Fred asked, squeezing her hand.

She reached out and pushed down one of his curls, trying to smooth it out as if it was the problem in question. "I wish I could, but you know I can't-you know why I can't.."

"I know," he said, bringing their hands to his lips, "but you can't blame a bloke for trying."

She was thinking. Trying to pull a face from her memories. Someone who could do exactly what she would as a middleman. Someone the twins could trust. Someone who was loyal, who would stop at nothing to keep the muggleborns safe.

Someone who had already proved themselves, last time—

"Justin!" She said loudly, her cry causing Fred to close his eyes and squinch his face. "No love, my name's Fred-I've been mistaken for George but never a Justin."

"No—Justin Finch-Fletchley—remember?" Hermione was more awake now. She grasped Fred's hand tightly as if doing so would make him see. "That Hufflepuff kid who was petrified my second year."

"The kid who got the snake set on him? That's who you want to be the middleman?" Fred yawned unimpressed , " He clammed up in front of a snake, you really think he'll be able to hold his own infront of Death Eaters?"

"He was 12–"

"When Harry was 12 he marched straight into the snake's den, saved Ginny and killed the snake," Fred answered as a matter of fact, "Course he's the chosen one—he should still be the standard for all 12 year olds."

"But listen," Hermione started, leaning on her elbow, "He was down for Eton before he got his Letter for Hogwarts—"

"My name was down for eating before I was born Hermione—-"

"Stop being silly," she said, letting go of his hand and sitting up, resting against the pillows. "What I'm saying is Justin will be able to tailor the situation to the parents. For some he might make it a Student Exchange, others it could be a learn study, or something that is compulsory-but he's charming, charismatic, he understands muggle customs-"

"Should I feel jealous of this bloke or is that just the exhaustion starting to show?" Fred said, leaning up from the bed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled, "I'm saying he's a well to do muggleborn whose family has some influence and could give our lie credibility." She explained, "I can write to him and see if he wants to meet tomorrow for Lunch and ask if he'd be interested."

"And if he says no?"

"Easy, I obliviate his memory," she said as a matter of fact, "I won't reveal your names. I'll tell him it's something I've been working on. That there will be a supplier that will give him what he needs." She started to shift out of bed, "I'm going to send an owl right away—"

"Wait—" Fred said, lifting his head up from the pillow, his hand reaching out for hers.

"You've been up the entire night making passports to save kids; let me do my bit and get it to them," Hermione smiled, coming back to kiss his head.

"Just for a minute then," Fred tried, his hand wrapping around her own. "stay till I'm asleep?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow, "Afraid of nightmares?" She asked returning to the bed. She stayed propped up in the pillows but watched as Fred looked up to the ceiling and heaved out a sigh.

"I've tried the last week to do things that could make happy memories for us and a nose-less git keeps ruining it" Fred swore, sitting himself up on his elbows. "You hang on to things that are special," he said, " and I feel like no matter how hard I try, I keep losing grip on us."

His voice was as heavy as his eyelids. Hermione sat there still, sitting up against the pillows next to him.

"He didn't ruin my happy memories," she told him, smoothing his hair as her fingers brushed through it. "He may have cut them short but he didn't ruin them."

"We were supposed to go to the canyon today," he croaked, leaning his head on her shoulder before rolling on his back. "I had the hotel pack a picnic and had brought a hammock—we were going to have our own little siesta or go swimming and instead—"

She slouched into the pillows and scooted closer to him, laying her head on his chest."What did you just say? About hanging on to things that are special?" She asked, taking his hand in hers. "Mallorca was special. Every moment of flowers on the table. Dancing in the square—You, running around Charles De Gaulle all night and getting us a pretzel to split in the terminal, that was special—"

"That was out of necessity, Weasley men don't do well hungry—"

"And you," she shifted her body to face him better, her free hand brushing down a stray, matted, curl "Moving Heaven and Earth to give me that perfect day, then coming home and diving in to save people we care about," her hand slid down to where it rested on the side of his face, "that is perhaps the most special thing of all. You're more than special to me, I love you Fred"

His smiled, shifting down into bed, "You only say that when I'm almost asleep" he chided.

"We'll get some sleep and I'll tell it to you again when you wake up."

He tilted his head to face her. His weary eyes opened as he pleads, "Will you still stay?"

She let go of his hand and started to gently stroke his hair, "Always."

"Always" he muttered back, as though that alone solves all their problems.

She laid there for a few minutes. She thought he was asleep and then Fred asked, his eyes still closed, "Do you think we can trust this Justin kid?"

"I do," Hermione said, "I really do."

He made a noise that Hermione took for an approving grunt. Fred's breaths slowing, becoming deeper and deeper until they became a familiar lullaby.

Hermione stayed in the bed little longer yet. Despite being so close to Fred in that moment,her memories were elsewhere, to her answer about Justin.

Hermione trusted Justin Finch Fletchley completely. Not because of what she knew about him in this timeline,but because he had already proved himself, once before.

((*))

Only 8 of Hermione's classmates returned when Hogwarts opened its doors in September 1998.

Most of the Seventh Year students sat for their NEWTs in the summer at the Ministry; The Under Secretary of Education, as well as the Board of Governors for Hogwarts agreed that if students wanted to sit for their exams, they should be able to. Completing their education was the very least the Ministry could do.

Others, such as Harry and Ron, chose the Alternative Certification, a mix of NEWTs and Practical Applications with an emphasis on Defense Against the Dark Arts and services during the War.

But others yet chose the third option, Professor McGonagall's invitation to return for an unprecedented Eighth Year where they would be able to pick up where they had left off before the School had been under Voldemort's Influence.

It seemed as though each of the 8 had their own reason for coming back. For some, like Hermione and Draco, it was a desire to escape the ever present hunt by Rita Skeeter and her proteges. For others, like Neville, it was a work-study program with the possibilities of a career after Hogwarts.

And there were some, like Justin Finch-Fletchley, who were trying to reclaim a part of their identity the Death Eaters had tried to strip from them.

Towards the end of the summer preceding that year, Hermione received a letter inviting her to be a Student Advisor. The role would be similar to that of a Prefect or Head Girl, help keep order in classes and corridors-but also would allow her organize and supervise study groups and classroom development. McGonagall wanted to restore Hogwarts' reputation as a place of learning, not a place where students had been slaughtered.

The letter informed her that she would be the female student advisor, and her counterpart would be none other than Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Hermione hadn't known Justin all that well prior to the war. They had been in the DA together, but the most time she could honestly say she spent with him-outside of sharing a Hospital Wing when twelve years old and petrified-were limited to the DA exchanges and detentions with Delores.

When they met on the train and started to reintroduce themselves, the began to share their war stories. It was an unpleasantry, but one Hermione liked to get out of the way, so they could move on to what was happening now. And while everyone had an idea of what Hermione had done in the war, she hadn't the foggiest of what Justin had done. She hadn't seen him at the Battle of Hogwarts and she tried not to hold that against him-but it lingered in the back of her head. Hadn't all of Hufflepuff house chosen to stay at Hogwarts and fight with Harry? Why had he chosen to stay hidden safely somewhere while so many of his classmates fought and risked it all?

And then he told her.

Justin had done something similar to Hermione in modifying his parent's memories shortly after Charity Burbage's disappearance. He changed their memories where they once had a son named Justin, who died at age 11 in a car accident. In an ongoing effort to erase their grief, his parents immigrated to Toronto where they would spend the rest of the year while the house was rented by a Mr Haversham-who was none other than Justin himself.

Originally, he had planned on actually renting the house but was forced to hold it when it became clear that he wasn't going to be allowed to return to school. He had reached out to fellow Hufflepuffs, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan in an effort to set up safe houses throughout the country for Muggleborns who would not be able to return to school. The safe houses soon snowballed into safe schools and while Justin wasn't top of the class, at the very least he could offer a place where the younger kids were safe and continuing their education.

Ernie sent news out of the school while Hannah, using her late Mother's house as a second safe location, kept working alongside Justin. Susan had lost so much of her family during the first war she felt it was better to defy the ministry on the outside than it was to wait patiently for them to realize they had missed a Bones and pull her out of class for nostalgic torture. She snuck out of the castle the first Hogsmeade weekend and hid in Sirius' cave until Hannah came to get her.

Both Susan and Hannah as school age purebloods took Polyjuice potion and some of Fred and George's amulets to move around to avoid snatchers. They would frequent pubs in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow and Tinsworth trying to find news on any of their friends who may be at risk, find them and bring them back to the House.

Justin figured they had all the Hufflepuffs and some of the Ravenclaws accounted for between the two locations, he told Hermione. Gryffindors where harder to find because he felt they were either under the protection of the Order or already on the run themselves.

"But I remember seeing Susan and Hannah at the Battle of Hogwarts," Hermione had interrupted, "And some of the others—"

She wanted to ask where he was. Why he and the rest hadn't come. Had they all slept through it? Had he chosen to ignore the DA's coin with the message that had been sent out?

"We kept the Safe Schools going through Christmas holidays," he explained, "But something happened, they had the snatchers doubled, nearly got Hannah when she was going to pick up a group of muggleborns in Derby-she came by to let me know, to warn me we'd have to be careful but-"

He didn't beat around the bush. "We weren't. I wasn't at least. I was too proud. We had been so lucky that first semester. I thought Hannah was nervous. She can spook easy-anyway, I knew I could pass as a Muggle. So the day after Hannah's warning, I left the house to get some things from the market. I had 8 kids coming, we had to get some food in the house-and I walked into a trap. I left around seven and by nine that morning I was on a transport to Azkaban."

"Azkaban-"

"I had my coin on me still, I sent a message to Sue and Hannah and then threw it down the gutter when they took me to the Ministry. It was alright though-the girls were able to empty the house and get the kids before the Snatchers thought to search me."

"Did they ask if you knew anything about the others?"

"They assumed as much," Justin shrugged, looking embarrassed, "I had a lot of groceries-they knew it wasn't just me back at the house."

"Did they try and find out information?" Hermione asked, he arm tingling at the thought as her eyes now scanned his extremities for any signs of a Death Eater interrogation.

"Of course they did, every muggleborn was 50 galleons a head, they wanted their pay day-but I wasn't going to give it to them. They figured that out early on and kept up with interrogations while I was in Azkaban."

They had sat their for a moment, the train still rattling on. She could remember when they were Second Years. How he had been the first face she had seen when she woke up. He had a similar groggy expression, but had smiled at her as they realized they had made it through.

"How'd you do it?" Hermione asked, surfacing back to the present.

"Same way I imagine you did," he shrugged, leaning back into his chair, "There existed a need, and I was one who could answer it."

Hermione looked into the window of Caffe Nero, one of the many coffee shop about 5 minutes walk from Eaton and Kings College. She had picked this location because there were so many students, and she and Justin as muggleborns would at the very least know how to blend in. In another life, Justin could have been here as a student of Eaton.

She saw him from outside the window. An expresso already on the table, he was flipping through what looked like the Times, the picture of ease. A chill in the air blew her collar up and, taking a deep breath, she opened the door to meet him.

He looked up the instant she entered the shop as on cue, and Hermione could see him stifle a wave as though he thought better of it before it got too high in the air.

Whatever ease she had imagined had been just that, imagined.

"This is my second expresso," he said immediately in a hushed whisper, "I was starting to worry I had got conned into a trap." Hermione took a second glance at the newspaper and realized it was The Daily Prophet that had been altered to look like a Muggle Paper. The photos were stationary, the columns straight and direct. But the stories were different. There was a man smiling outside of Gringotts as another column declared there were still no developments in the murder of a Muggle family in Bristol.

Justin met her eyes over the paper. " It's getting a little bleek out there to say the least," he admitted, "Which is why I suppose you've called me out here?" he asked, "Can't say I wasn't surprised when I got your letter yesterday—but then again if its related to this it make sense—"

"It's—It's about school actually," Hermione stumbled, digging out Bill's letter to Fred. The damning form that would start to create havoc in all their lives. "A friend got this Sunday morning—-" she started as she unfolded it from it's creases, " I—I figured you ought to know—"

He took the paper and looked it over, "It doesn't look different. It's just—ah—"

"Blood Status," Hermione nodded, "I can't think of any reason the Department of Mysteries would be wasting time researching Muggleborns but I can think of a couple places they may be going with this."

Justin looked pale, like he had when they woke up in the Hospital their Second Year. " I had assumed as much after Professor Burbage's article got such a backlash. I heard she's been kidnapped?" he looked at her with prodding eyes.

Her eyes flickered down, " Heard that too. And if it's not safe to be a Muggleborn Advocate and a Hogwarts Professor-"

"It sure won't be safe to be a muggleborn student," he said, more to himself than Hermione. He looked at the form, " I set up an account with Gringotts summer of my Third Year—Mum and Dad would put in a little every year—nothing too large. My savings was kept at the Bank of England—we were going to transfer it all over once I had finished."

Hermione could hear the hustle of the city outside but she could hear something louder still in Justin's words. He was using the past tense. He already knew, in a way, he wasn't going to be going back. At least not this year.

"Where are your parents now?" she asked, tip toeing delicately down her path.

"I sent them abroad after they came to tell us about Professor Burbage, I'll-collect them. Once its safe again," Justin said, although his tone doubted that day would ever come. "I imagine you did something similar?"

She nodded, casting her eyes down to the ring around his cup. She turned her eyes to see Justin when he didn't say anything and she noticed he seemed irritated. Color was returning to his cheeks, similar to how they did Ron's when he was angry.

"It's not right—-what they're doing," he said simply "If they're going to regulate the banks against us, what's next?"

"I think you know what's next," Hermione said. "If you can't access your Gringotts account, you can't buy your supplies for school. If you can't do that, whose to say they won't have people on guard at Kings Cross. If you can't get on the platform—"

"We all fly to Hogwarts in a car like your mates did," he started, a shadow of a laugh in his voice.

"Something tells me there will be more than a Whomping Willow to meet you if you did," She pulled her wallet out of the purse and put it on the table, "If you can't claim sanctuary at Hogwarts, you need another plan. You need an escape."

He took the wallet hesitantly, as though he thought he expected it to be a prank product. When he opened, he found a blank wallet, as she hadn't added the picture. A Blank Credit Card, Underground pass and burgundy passport, just waiting for the photographs finishing touch.

He looked up when he saw there wasn't any identification to it. "Hermione, what is this?"

"Did you bring a photo like I asked?" she said, taking the wallet back. Justin slipped an envelope to her and she dug out the passport picture he had probably had made earlier that morning. He was smiling, wearing a black and yellow Hufflepuff scarf over his coat.

She opened the Passport wide so he could see and watch as the information suddenly appeared once the photo made contact with the passport paper. The black letters seeping to the surface like they had before.

"What is this?" he asked wide eyed, "It's-this is amazing magic."

"I'm calling them Wanderer Wallets," Hermione said keeping to her promise to keep Fred and George's name out of this conversation. " Listen-if the Muggleborns aren't allowed to go to Hogwarts, they are going to be exposed-it won't be safe. We need to get them out of the country before it's too late."

"Out where though? We can't just drop them in Calais and say 'Come back when the War's over, Good Luck.'"

"Do you remember Beauxbatons our fourth year?" Hermione asked, " This Wallets can get them to Paris, where they'll rendevouz with a representative of the school who can take them there."

Justin looked at it wearily, "Will it work?" he asked, " They look official but—"

"I've already done a test run and it ran without a problem," Hermione answered, "But I need your help getting the kids out to the country."

"Why? I mean, don't get me wrong I can help you but why aren't you-"

"There exists a need," Hermione started, "And I am one who can answer it. But Harry has a job he needs to do—an important one and while these wallets are going to be important," she looked at them faintly, "Harry's mission is of more importance for me. At least for now. But I need to know that there'll be someone who can talk parents into letting their children leave the country; someone who will get them out. "

He locked his chin and nodded, "I understand. What do I need to do?"

((*))

George had thought that their first summer on Diagon Alley had set the standard of how bleak things could get.

This Summer was making the one previous seem like the golden days of yore.

He and Lee had put a fresh coat of purple paint on the previous weekend and painted the shutters a violent shade of orange that-in Lee's words-was so offensive that even if someone was determined to look down, they could somehow sense the obsenity of the clash in colors and look up, as though drawn to a muggle car crash.

And when they would look up it would be to the bright windows of the shop. George liked to say it stood as a beacon to the weary and depressed. Bill, who had stopped at the shop Monday, told him it had every sign of a potential target, complete with an obscene hand gesture.

Last year they had tried to strike a balance between mayhem and the growing threat of war. This year, he noticed their Hippogriff Protection charms were constantly showing low in inventory and their shielding cloaks usually went straight from inventory to desperate hands of parents and Ministry Officials alike.

"I think there were more today than there were yesterday," George said, turning to Fred when he flipped the open sign at the end of the night when they closed Wednesday.

"I think your slightly barmy Forge," Fred chuckled, looking back at his brother and popping his back in the process." But we'll take what we can get. Definitely towards the end of the day it was busier."

"Are you two going out tonight?" George asked, locking the till and turning to the storage room.

"Probably not, she isn't keen of wearing those disguise amulets and I'd rather not risk the Death Eaters' realizing she's in the country. Nearly had a heart attack when she told me she went sans disguise to go meet that Fletchy fellow yesterday," Fred answered.

George shook his head, "You two should still get out every now and again. Ron is expecting she'll be at the Burrow soon-you two don't have much time left."

"When did my brother become the hopeless romantic?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow before setting to the stairs.

"Why did my brother start playing hide-and-lay-low with the Death Eaters?" George replied.

"Probably the moment he moved his girlfriend in so he didn't have to worry about her getting snatched in the night if we're being honest," Fred looked up the stairs that lead to the loft. "I'll see if I can get her down here tomorrow-I think she's struggling in the loft."

Struggling, George thought, was taking it nicely.

Hermione had taken over the loft the last few days. She had two main projects. The first, doing the finishing touches on the Wandering Wallets-a dozen completed and a dozen more in the final stages-just needing the last of the confounding charms.

The second project George thought was a little more eccentric. Even for Hermione. She had taken one of the knitted ski caps she had made for a house elf and was adding on earmuffs. She said it would be useful if they had to fly and were intercepted by Death Eaters. With a shielding charm, the spells would ricochet, and they'd be able to continue on unharmed.

"We could just wear Quidditch helmets?" Fred had tried when she had shown them her prototype last night.

She had seen right through that lie and flushed with annoyance by their lack of enthusiasm. "In the seven years you played Quidditch, how many times did you actually wear Quidditch Helmets?"

"I'm sorry love-they just look-"

"Like they're going to protect you from danger?" Hermione tried testingly.

"Exactly," George had intercepted, "I think Freddie's concerned they'll work so well the Death Eaters will try and hex other-ah, more important bits-when they realize our heads won't explode mid flight."

George supposed it was a good idea, but he also thought it wasn't necessary. It was rare to have midair duels-it could be just as dangerous for the Death Eater. He had looked at the knitted creation and decided something had to change. He thought both Fred and Hermione were about to crack. Their respite vacation had been too short to give them glimpses of relaxation. All day Fred cracked jokes and smiles and then at night he helped Hermione making the wallets, only after she spent the day knitting green caps with earmuffs.

They were to make the first drop of wallets the day before Bill's wedding. From there, Justin would make his way down the list, telling parents it was part of a new study abroad experience that Hogwarts had just instituted. One that would be required for their student to complete that year. Fleur had confirmed Madam Maxine would take the first dozen to Beauxbatons, and from there get them transport to Ilvermorny if they'd like. They'd leave three days before the train left to Hogwarts.

They might be going bonkers, but it was possible the plan was working. And the radio-George had nearly forgotten about that-Fred had got the short wave to work, they were going to try and get the long wave up after the wedding so they could reach Beauxbatons and the Muggleborns to provide them updates of the war.

Sanity loss but we keep marching on-

The brother's climbed the stair and George was hit by the smell of thyme. There were three places set at the table along with a salad, rice and breaded chicken that seemed to have thyme all over it. "About time you got up, dinner's going to go cold," Hermione smiled as she walked over and kissed them both on the cheek.

"What's the occasion?" George asked looking at it suspiciously. He wasn't in the habit of beautiful women making dinner for no reason. He looked to Fred who seemed to be more at ease with the idea although he could see a part of him panicking as though he had forgotten an important anniversary.

"It's a Wednesday and we're still alive?" Hermione shrugged taking her place at the table. "If you don't like it I won't be offended."

The night before she had made some sort of soup, the day before that a dish she had learned from her batty old aunts in Spain. George had no doubt the meal would be delicious-Hermione was quite the cook-but he knew what the price would be for such a meal.

It would be Hermione looking at his brother as though there was a chance she'd never see him again. It would be Fred staring into her eyes as though blinking was indecent. And every now and then, when he had tucked in and started eating, trying to avoid the scene one of them would loop him in the conversation and he'd have to watch the train wreck unfold contributing to a conversation he knew neither was really listening too.

"You know what, I actually have something I forgot about," George said, tucking in his chair and heading to the door, "Told Lee I'd help him with something he's working on-surprise for Alicia, you know," he shrugged before grabbing his wand and skipping down the stairs.

He didn't need to go to Lee, but he did need to find a way to get the two of them out of the flat. Somewhere they could go on a date-where they could spend a few hours alone and enjoying life. He owed them that for interrupting in Mallorca.

As he got out of the alley he saw a double decker driving by with a rose encased in glass and two silhouettes-what looked like a werewolf and a young girl playing at a theater.

And before George knew it, he was racing towards the bus to get the address.

((*))

They arrived with a gentle pop in a broom cupboard in the Underground, Hermione tucking away the portkey George had given them into her little beaded bag before waving them on their way.

It had been what Hermione learned was a regular day at the shop. The Brothers were in the floor room filling pockets and bag for students planning to return to Hogwarts. They were preparing to roll out a sale this week on all skiving snacks including their latest-Headmaster Headaches-which would give you a pale, clamming complection. To the visible eye, you looked as though you were suffering a major migraine. To the user, you were physically at ease, just waiting to be dismissed.

"Made them in tribute to McGonagall," George explained as they showed her the boxes, "She'll be next after all. See how the chocolate squares has a cat with glasses on them?"

Fred caught her face and shook his head as he smiled, "No matter how much I know you love me, I know your heart will always be tied up towards the Professors."

"Only the good ones," Hermione smiled, looking over George's chocolate cats. "The ones that don't end up being murderers or Ministry Crooks."

"I'm not done yet!" George had interrupted like a small child, putting away the Headmaster Headaches. He set them down and picked up an envelope on his desk. "I've been really good this week, but I need you lot out of the flat tonight."

"You having a lady friend over?" Hermione asked suspiciously, Fred with his arms folded behind her tilting his head to his side. "Things developing with you and Angelina?" he asked.

"Maybe-but that's not the point. This entire week you two have been up in the flat either falling asleep on one another, Hermione reading you a book, or worse looping me in for conversation as you both just look the other down as though I'm not there-" he shivered, shaking the envelope in his hand "I need you to get out-go do something fun, have some romance and don't come home till midnight."

Fred walked over and took the envelop and looked at the contents and then back to George confused, "What-"

"A portkey will take you to your destination tonight. Brother of mine, take the day off. Hermione, take him shopping-both of you need to be in your muggle best."

"Aren't you going to tell us what for?" Hermione asked, trying to take a look at the envelop herself but George grabbed it and gave it a wave. "Best go shopping. Portkey leaves at seven-thirty."

And so Hermione and Fred had traced around all the muggle stores that surrounded Diagon Alley. They had found a second hand store on Monmouth Street above a dry cleaners and Fred had found a brown plaid sports coat with slacks-and to her chagrin a bow tie he was rather fond of.

She had a harder time picking her choice; when Fred said he would go pick something for her she nearly had a heart attack when he brought her a 1980s wedding gown that looked like it had been a Diana knock off.

"Fred that's a wedding dress!" Hermione had said through gritted teeth when he carried it to the door.

"George said 'Muggle Best' so if it's good enough for a muggle to get married in it's good enough for whatever it is we're doing tonight right?" Fred asked with a wink.

"Unless you plan on eloping tonight at whatever destination George is sending us to, the answers no-and no, we're not eloping," she added when he raised a hopeful eyebrow. She returned to her dress stack and tried again a dress dress. She had made a few modifications with her wand and once the powder blue dress with puffy shoulders was half decent once the sleeves were gone and the neck now a tasteful sweetheart cut. They had returned to the Burrow where George had ushered Fred across the hall to get ready so Hermione would have time to get ready in solitude.

It was weird. It had been all in all her weirdest day at No. 93, and she wondered how much Fred knew about what his brother had up his sleeve.

But that was hours ago, and Hermione was now pushed against Fred's chest as they tried to make space in their portkey found broom closet.

"Did your brother really send us on a date to a broom closet?" Hermione asked, brushing the dust off her skirt hem, as she wiggled to find some space. "I don't know why he insisted we dress up if he just sent us to snog in a closet."

She felt his hand find its ways to hers. "We could stay in here and snog-I'd be alright with that-but George felt bad for interrupting us on Vacation-"

"As he should," Hermione muttered, her free hand brushing the dirt away from his collar, "So he doesn't know where this closet is and he wouldn't be able to interrupt us?"

His hand rose and covered hers, holding it against his chest. "He gave us a surprise-"

"Ah, I knew he'd tell you!" Hermione smiled, her hand now brushing against the lapel of his jacket. "What are we doing?"

"He didn't exactly say-but I can promise you it's probably better than snogging in a public broom closet. What do you say we go?"

She sighed, although still grinning, " Never thought I'd see the day where Fred Weasley says no to a snog." He laughed and squeezed her hand "dressed up like that-trust me Hermione, I'm as shocked as you are."

He turned the door and they were out, mingling with the muggle crowd. Hermione noted that they weren't the only ones in their dress. Some of the women she noted were wearing full length dresses. Her mum had a few fancy dresses like this, with the sequins and shoulder pads-but those had only been when her and her father had gone out somewhere special, somewhere where lots of other people we're trying to show off.

They emerged on the street and Hermione knew exactly where they were. "We're on Tottenham Court Road," she blurted out, looking at the various lights from the theaters that ran up and down the street. "I haven't been here since-"

Since we left Bill's wedding, she realized. Remembering how it was Hermione holding oth Harry and Ron's hands tightly as they appeared kitty corner to where she stood now.

She squeezed Fred's hand, as though if she did everything would be alright. She stared at the theater with its white marble standing like a cliff of Dover, the warm glow of the windows beckoning them in.

"Apparently there's a musical about a muggle girl who likes to read and wants more out of life. George thought that sounded familiar and bought us tickets. He also promised me a werewolf so I'm excited to see how this all ends up." Fred grinned as he lead her to the front doors, meshing in with the crowd trying to enter.

Inside, Hermione felt like she was eight years old all over again, and Granny Granger had taken her to see Little Women. Nothing had changed. The paneling on the walls, the marble floors and railings had remained untouched over time. A little old woman who even resembled Granny stood at the top of the stairs with her Granddaughters in tow.

Fred gently tugged her hand towards the right of the house towards the stairs, "Come one, Georgie got us a seat in the balcony."

It all felt as though it was a dream, like their adventure in Mallorca. She didn't want to believe it was real because if it was, who could stop a Death Eater from being th conductor or Bellatrix from interrupting Act Two. If it was a dream, it could stay perfect, untouched by the war for just a few hours longer.

True to his word, Fred helped her to her chair in the balcony-they were the first row, center balcony and Hermione didn't want to know what George had paid for these seats.

She looked at him for a moment, in his smart muggle blazer and bow tie. He looked so out of character, but she didn't mind it. If he had the chance to meet her parents, she'd like to think they'd meet when he looked like him this—although she wouldn't care either way.

"You and George like the theater?"

"They usually have artisan fairs in Ottery during the summer," Fred said, leaning back into the chair and extending his arm behind hers. "Bill use to take us little kids to go see them perform-but after some bloke killed a dragon and Charlie threw his drink at him we weren't exactly keen company."

"Banned from the library and fair because of Charlie?" Hermione asked.

"And people say we're the evil twins" Fred shrugged. With that, he tapped his wand against the armrest between them and it vanished. "Maybe they're right maybe they're wrong?"

"Oh they're definitely right," she smiled looking up at him, "At least you." She scooted closer, resting against his side. He murmured something against her hair, but before she could ask what he had said the lights dimmed and the music started from the pit. Hermione felt herself leaning forward to look down on the stage below, looking forward to a few hours where she wasn't center stage in her own life drama.

((*))

AN:

I had every intention on posting this chapter in time for the twin's birthdays but I kept getting sidetracked with work and things. So I apologize for the delay...

I also tried to make it a little bit more conversation heavy than the previous ones. I know I tend to get long winded when I go between Hermione's experiences in the post-war but I really tried to reign it in a bit. I found myself trying to force this chapter a certain way and did a re-write half way through when I felt both Fred, Hermione (and poor George) were getting a little over spread for my expectations.

Also, I am a bit of a History nut and if you look up Dominion Theater 1997, Beauty and the Beast was performed over the summer and early fall. So it's accurate in that sense. My editing was done on cough medicine, but the Dominion Theater Beauty and the Beast connection is real (and also written on cough meds).

I cannot express how much I appreciate all your kind words for this story and all your supportive ones as well. To the new hand that have just joined, you are most welcome, and to those who have been getting email updates for the past few years, you're beautiful still and always welcome. Thank you for your encouragement and your passion for this story, it makes it a pleasure to write.

Next Chapter will include: Hermione going to the Burrow and trying to convince Ginny she and Fred have ended things, Ron's resurfacing, and preparations for what will become the Battle of the Seven Potters. We are so close to Deathly Hallows/the war its' not funny (Spoilers: Especially if your name is Fred and Hermione...).

Until next time, raise a glass to freedom-

Kait