A week had passed since Fred and Hermione had 'dashed through' their wedding, moved into their house, and become an official married couple.

To say that Hermione was swept up in the whirl-wind of things was an understatement. She kept mistaking dates and twice she asked Fred when they were going to go to the church and say their somewhat dreaded vows.

The ceremony had been short and sweet, just like they wanted it to be. There were no bridesmaids (much to Ginny's disappointment) and no flower girls. The two of them nearly ran up the aisle, said 'I do', exchanged rings, and even pecked briefly on the lips before the two-second applause of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ginny, Remus, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Percy and Ron. Charlie had left the day before to go back to Romania on business.

So now, Hermione was a married woman. A real-life wife, as her mom would say. She lay on her new couch lazily, her hand extended out in front of her as her eyes scrutinized the ring. Not to say it wasn't pretty; it was bloody gorgeous for that matter. A small little ruby surrounded by even smaller diamonds. Fred had said that it had been his grandmother's, which had melted Hermione's heart. She narrowed her eyes at it still, completely aware of how oddly heavy it felt on her ring finger, like it didn't belong there.

"Honey, I'm home!" Fred announced in a sing-song voice, nearly bouncing through the door. Hermione rolled her eyes, stowing her hand away from her face up near her hair.

"Honey, you never left!" She responded in the same tone, cocking an eyebrow at him. Fred shook his head and sat on the floor in front of her.

"Yes I did! I went outside to get the Prophet. Errol crashed in the bushes so I had to do some digging see, but I got it!" With that he triumphantly held up a partially ripped paper in his hand, holding it like a trophy. Hermione rolled her eyes again and snatched it up.

"What'd you do to it? I doubt any newspaper could offend you so much that you felt the need to nearly destroy it." She said, examining the paper like a patient in a doctor's office. Fred shook his head.

"Errol's fault, not mine." He said, standing up. Hermione held up her hand, allowing him to take it in his own and hoisting her up from her sitting position. She walked into the kitchen, unwrapping the Prophet.

"Sports." She called briefly before tossing that section over her shoulder. Fred caught it with ease a moment before she heard him let out a whistle of relief.

"Yes! The Harpies won again! George owes me fifteen galleons now!" Fred said, pumping his fist in the air. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him before turning to the front page and placing it on the counter, bending over to read.

She was at the second headline when she stopped reading, her breath catching in her throat. Not again!

"You've got to be kidding me!" She exclaimed, picking the paper up by two quivering hands and holding it close to her face so that she could be sure the words were real. Fred, who had pulled out a bag of potato chips, turned towards her with a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, walking over and reading over her shoulder.

"All new marriages between a muggle-born and a pure-blood are to report to the Ministry of Magic by October 14th for an examination of an authentic partnership." She read aloud, her voice growing angrier and angrier with ever syllable that passed her lips. She would have snarled, but it was quite unlike her to do so.

"What?" Fred asked incredulously, bending over her shoulder since he was about a little over a foot taller than her. Hermione glared at the newspaper in her hands, grounding out mutters about the Ministry.

"How ridiculous can they get?" She demanded, sitting on one of the barstools at the counter, placing her head in her hands. Fred was reading, than re-reading, than reading again, never stopping to answer. It was true that the Ministry was already a bit over-board on silly laws that no one really needed to mind, but when any type of government dares to examine someone's marriage, that was crossing the line.

"I don't know…we'll have to go in tomorrow." Fred said dully, keeping his eyes on the Prophet as he spoke to her. Hermione glanced at him, a frown deepening on her face.

"Tomorrow?" She asked. "It said we didn't have to go in until October fourteenth though." This wasn't really a statement or a question. More than anything it a slight protest or objection. Hermione couldn't tell the difference between them today. Fred shook his head, taking a bite out of an unusually large chip.

"Yeah, but we'll have to get this over with sooner, that way, once we get our marriage certified," He cringed slightly at the mention of their status. "They won't have a reason to make up another dumb law just to try and stump everyone." He said, finally taking his eyes from the paper and laying them on her annoyed features. Fred did his best to give her a reassuring smile.

"What kind of questions would they ask?" Hermione said, standing up and re-folding the paper. Fred stepped around her and grabbed a napkin to wipe the grease of his fingers, shrugging as he did so.

"Probably lame ones. Like, 'what's your wife's favorite color?' Or something-"

"Gold." Hermione answered. Fred stopped talking and looked at her strangely, still wringing his hands with the napkin.

"What?" He asked, looking at her oddly. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"My favorite color. It's gold." She said, the slightest hint of confusion in her voice. Than again nowadays, she was always confused. Fred continued to look at her like she had turned purple for a few more moments, than he cracked an uneasy smile, nodding.

"Oh…cool. Yeah, mine's blue." He announced, sitting in her empty barstool, folding his arms and laying his head down on them. Hermione walked over behind him and scratched his back. She heard him sigh with contentment.

"I suppose we'll have to know all of each other's favorites…what the first thing we do in the morning is…that kind of stuff." She said absent-mindedly, still running her hands down and up his back. Fred had his eyes closed, just enjoying the feeling.

"Yeah, 'guess so." He mumbled back, ignoring her little laugh. "Ask away." He muttered into his arms. Hermione stopped scratching a moment.

"What?" She asked him, as if she hadn't been paying attention. Fred chuckled, but it was muffled by his arms, so he raised his head.

"Ask away. If we need to know each other inside and out, we might as well start now. Here, I'll go first. What's your favorite food?" He asked, pulling out the stool next to him so she could sit down.

"Probably spinach." She said, smiling. Fred wrinkled his nose and made a vomiting gesture.

"Gross." He muttered. Hermione swat him on the arm, ignoring his comment.

"What's yours?" She asked. Fred thought for few moments.

"Coffee-cake." And thus it went on, asking and answering. Hermione stood and got them a tub of ice-cream to much on while they talked on, ignoring the little hands of the clock as it flew past numbers.

"Book."

"Too many to name. Animal."

"Colin Creevy."

"Fred, that's not what I meant."

"I know, but you gotta admit, that kid looks like a hedgehog." Hermione laughed at that. Fred smiled and poked his spoon back into the tub of chocolate-chunk; his favorite. Hermione sighed and leaned back on the chair, licking her spoon and thinking.

"What's up?" Fred asked, turning his neck to peer at her. She stopped smiling and allowed her face to become guarded and worried.

"It's just-what if we slip up. Do you realize how convincing we'll have to be? They'll be scrutinizing every aspect of this relationship. But that's the problem! We don't have a relationship!" She cried, running her fingers through her hair and standing from her chair and pacing around the room.

Fred watched with a mixture of concern and amusement. He smirked, holding the tub of ice-cream to his chest as his bushy-haired friend gave up walking, and lay flat on the floor, face down, whimpering. Fred held back a chuckle, knowing he'd have hell to pay if she caught him laughing at her. Still, he allowed himself a tiny chuckle before placing the ice-cream back on the counter.

Hermione was still mumbling crossly when he laid down on his stomach, his face a few inches from hers.

"Hermione?" He asked, folding his arms under his chin. Hermione breathed heavily and looked up.

For some reason, Fred's blue eyes seemed…bluer. Hermione had never really taken the time to observe his eyes, or his face for that matter. Normally, all she would say about his outer-appearance was that he had blue eyes, red hair, and some freckles. Now, being this close to him in proximity, she could easily say that his hair was orange-like, with a sprinkle of auburn. His eyes were more of a forget-me-not periwinkle than obvious blue, and to her surprise, he only had a dash of freckles here and there.

"Hmm…" She murmured, furrowing her brow as she inspected him. She didn't notice the odd look he gave her as she tilted her head, studying him.

"What?" He asked, suddenly self-conscience. "Is there something in my teeth?" He asked, and began furiously licking them over in his mouth. Hermione brought her normal gaze back, a small smile on her face.

"No, it's just…well you and George really do look different." She concluded, looking at him in a more dream fashion than usual. Fred raised an eyebrow at her.

"How so?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbows, cradling his head in his palms.

"Well, your hair is a bit shorter and a little less tidy than his. Plus, it has more of a red shade instead of orange. And your eyes…they're forget-me-not blue. His are darker, almost sapphire colored. And I've noticed that you have fewer freckles than he does on your back and shoulders. Before you accuse me of stalking you in the shower though, it was from when we all went swimming at lake near the Burrow last summer." She finished, smiling fully at him now. Fred looked slightly bewildered at her analysis, but shrugged it off with a quizzical look.

"You are way too observant."