Hermione finished brushing her teeth quicker than usual with anxiety hidden in every stroke. Tomorrow was the big examination, and while she and Fred had spent the entire last five hours memorizing each other's habits, favorites, and usual routines, one couldn't help but feel antsy at the thought of proving their marriage was legitimate when really, it wasn't even real. Fred stood in the bedroom behind her, shirtless as usual with a pair of blue pajama pants on, folding his shirt and placing it in the drawer.

For a persistent trouble-maker, Fred was quite the clean-freak. He liked all his shirts organized and placed into the correct drawers, all which were labeled. Not even Hermione could top that one. She had pants and shirts mixed in together. Folded, yes, but still not as tidy as Fred. She spit into the sink, wiped her mouth with a tissue and entered the bedroom.

Hermione was so thankful she didn't have to be uncomfortable in her own bedroom. It was weird enough living with Fred, but sleeping with him? She refused to go that far.

So, she happily obliged when Mrs. Weasley offered to buy them both two beds, which they had immediately put on opposite sides of the room. The bathroom was conveniently located on the imaginary dividing line in the room; right down the middle. That way, at least they didn't have to accidentally wake up on top of each other or anything like that.

Fred smiled wearily at her when she came out of the bathroom, turning the lights off and shutting the door behind her. She smiled back and stretched her arms.

"Big day tomorrow." Fred sighed, crossing over to his own bed and beginning to pull back the blankets. Hermione mirrored his actions. Trying to keep the atmosphere light, she chuckled.

"Oh please Fred, you say it as if we're getting married." She joked, and a moment later realized how unfunny it was. They already were married.

"Nevermind." She mumbled, after standing there, closing her eyes and mentally slapping her forehead. Fred shook off the serious look on his face and rolled his eyes at her, crawling into his bed.

"Don't worry about tomorrow. Just remember; my favorite food is coffe-cake. Got it?" He asked, eyeing her from across the room. Hermione slid gracefully under the covers and looked at him strangely.

"Why would I need to remember that?" She asked, hesitantly reaching for the switch on her lamp. Fred smirked and rolled onto his back, smiling at the ceiling.

"I'm hoping they'll offer us some after the hearing." He said happily. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. A moment later, the room went dark and Fred began to snore rather loudly.

……….

The chairs at the Ministry were incredibly uncomfortable, and the hearing rooms were just as small. Hermione fidgeted; annoyed with the wooden piece of stupid furniture beneath her that was probably bruising her bare legs. She decided it was a bad day to be wearing a skirt. She took a deep breath, looking around at the cramped walls that secluded her from the rest of the world. Maybe it had something to do with intimidating the victim who sat in this awful chair.

She and Fred had been separated at the door. He had given her a squeeze on the shoulder before he was escorted away by a rather fat and frumpy looking wizard. Hermione had turned to her interrogator, a small smile on her face, only to be greeted by a cold and suspicious glare.

And now, here she was. Her interrogator, who's name was Helga Billkin-Jonas (a hell of a name in Hermione's opinion) sat at the desk, shuffling through Hermione and Fred's files. Finally, she turned to her client, still unsmiling.

"How long have you and your husband been married?" She asked in an emotionless tone. Hermione gulped quietly.

"Um, I think about a week and a half? Or maybe just a week." She said nervously, glancing at Helga for any sort of reassurance. None given.

"How many people were at the wedding?" She asked again, scribbling down a quick note on her clipboard.

"About a dozen. It was mostly his family." She answered. Helga raised her eyebrows.

"Your parents didn't come?" She asked, and Hermione couldn't help but notice the hint of cruel satisfaction at the thought of a muggle-born orphan. Hermione glared at her.

"No, they did not. They were killed a couple of years ago." She answered acidly. Helga nodded and scribbled again.

"Have you had any previous engagement of any sort of relationship with his family?" She asked, her eyes glued to her paper. Hermione grimaced briefly.

"I dated his younger brother for a few months in my seventh year at Hogwarts." She said angrily. She didn't like thinking about that relationship. Apparently, Helga did.

"Oh? What happened to cut that off?" She pried, making Hermione squirm.

"Well, there's another girl who caught his attention. After that, everything was just empty." She replied, choosing her words carefully. In truth, Ron had technically cheated on her with Luna, but there were no hard feelings between the girls. Hermione had confessed to Luna that she had lost that sort of feeling for Ron awhile ago, and in no way was upset with the Ravenclaw. On the other hand, Ron had been a different story…

"Hm. How much do you know about your husband?" Helga inquired. Hermione sighed. When was this ordeal going to be over?

"Very well." She replied confidently. Helga raised her eyebrows at Hermione's boldness, obviously hoping to catch her off-guard. It never happened.

"What's his favorite color?"

"Blue. But he likes Periwinkle now a bit more."

"Why the sudden change?" Helga asked. Hermione blushed slightly.

"I told him it was the color of his eyes." She answered happily, smiling. Helga made some unintelligible noise in the back of her throat, and Hermione's brow furrowed. Of course! I just made it seem like Fred and I were actually in love by that whole eye-color thing! So that's the trick, make everything as mushy and detailed as possible. She smiled in spite of herself, quite proud with her unknown cleverness. Helga stopped scribbling.

"What's he like in the mornings? Afternoons, nights?" She asked, a prim look settled in her eyes. Hermione decided she really despised this woman. She reminded her horribly well of Umbridge.

"Um, in the mornings…" With a small panic, Hermione realized that she and Fred hadn't practiced questions like these. They had focused on each other's personalities, their likes and dislikes, not moods or attitudes. Helga smiled triumphantly at Hermione's lack for words to describe Fred. Think Hermione, think! You know Fred well enough to answer this!

"Well, in the morning, he's kind of…lazy. But than again, everyone is. With him though, he's really almost vulnerable in the morning. Like, you could tease him about something, and he'd take immediate offence. He'd very disoriented, and kind of a push-over. But he's still pleasant to be around, besides his morning breath. But actually, that's not so bad either-"

"How about afternoons?" Helga ground out, quite annoyed with Hermione for being able to answer the question successfully. Hermione gave her a harsh look for interrupting her.

"In the afternoons, he'd full-on Fred. Always smiling, always making jokes. He's very alive in the afternoons, like he's turned twelve again. It's very easy to be around him when he's like this, because he becomes like your best friend in two seconds. I can see now why girls are so taken with him." She said, smiling, the image of Angelina and Katie Bell twirling into her brain. How jealous would they be now?

"And nights?" Helga asked, obviously starting to tire.

"Nights? Well his behavior doesn't much change from the Afternoons. He still is cheery and all, but I guess it mellows down a bit." She said, thinking about how to make that more detailed. Helga didn't seem to notice. She rubbed her face tiredly, as if Hermione was such a dreadful bore.

"And what about in bed?" She asked sleepily. Hermione jerked her attention back to her inquirer.

"Excuse me?" She aske,d quite taken aback. Helga raised her head eagerly.

"During intercourse. Is it satisfying for both parties?" She asked. Hermione knew this was a serious question, and yet Helga was nearly overflowing with giddiness that she had finally caught Hermione off guard.

"Well…um-" Hermione spluttered.

……..

Meanwhile, Fred was leaning as far back in his chair as he could, a mixture of confusion and disgust on his face as he regarded his interrogator.

"Come again?" He asked, his voice extremely strained. After answering every one of Hermione's likes and dislikes, he was too exhausted to even open his mouth for this question, much less think about it.

"I said, are you two sexually active?" The wizard asked, looking grumpier and frumpier than ever. Fred looked bewildered at the man, feeling suddenly very violated.

"Well…no." He choked out, not knowing fully how to explain his position without giving them away. How do you answer a question like that?

……….

"That. Was. Hell." Hermione grunted as Fred lead her out of the Interrogation Office and into the vast entry-way, full of fireplaces and moving telephone booths. Fred took a deep breath and nodded. He decided not to tell Hermione about the 'intercourse' question, fearing the embarrassment that would surely come from the looks she would throw him. Instead, he glanced behind his shoulder, eyeing the two interrogators. They had previously been comparing notes as he and Hermione left the building, but now their eyes followed them, the suspicion overflowing their cold eyes. Fred was getting tired of them doubting him and Hermione. Just to make them shut up, he did the only thing he knew would make their mouths drop.

Grabbing Hermione by the shoulders, be pulled her around to turn and face him. She looked momentarily shocked by his actions, but he doubted it could rival the look she must have given him next; he didn't see it because his eyes were already closed as his lips descended down upon hers in a sweeping motion, capturing them quickly and softly, parting them and deepening the kiss.

Hermione's eyes were wide open as Fred kissed her. For the first few moments, she stood like a manikin in shop window, still and unmoving, when her body reacted. She closed her eyes and raised her arms, wrapping them around his neck and pulling his head closer to hers. He caught her drift and snaked his arms around her petite waist, grinning into her lips, soft and cherry-tasting.

Hermione knew it wasn't real. She had figured that out the moment before Fred had kissed her; when she saw the two interrogators behind them, eyeing them like escaped criminals. Still, she tried her best to ignore the goose-bumps that sprinkled over her flesh, allowing the smallest of shivers run down her spine quickly. It did not go unnoticed by Fred, who finally released her, took her hand, and led her away from the building, smiling like a mad-man.