Fred was, to say the least, terrified with his current sleeping arrangement. After last night's accident (Hermione and the burglar, oh dear.) Fred had agreed to just lay with her until she finally fell asleep. Her nose was still bleeding a little when he first heard her slight snore, but he brushed it away with a napkin and a smile. Than, the most unplanned and ridiculous thing had occurred; he had fallen asleep right alongside her.

And then of course, he woke up quite content this morning with a fuzzy idea of baking apology brownies for Hermione. However, as he stretched and yawned happily, he looked over to "Hermione's" side of the room. What he found himself staring at was his desk, his carpet, and his bed. Then, with growing terror, he slowly looked down to the mass that lay happily on his chest.

First, all he saw was a sweet mane of bushy, curvy hair, which ticked his stomach through his tee-shirt when Hermione shifted her head and sighed clearly oblivious with her position. Fred's eyes widened as he looked down at her, panic rising to his earlobes. He tried to move out from underneath her, but she clamped her arms down on him, thus ceasing all activity on his end. Fred took a deep breath and looked at her.

Her chest was rising and falling evenly with every breath she took, the smallest of happy smiles placed delicately on her lips. He couldn't help but marble at how contagious her mood was; in a matter of moments, he too shifted his back up against his pillow, one arm tracing her fingers, the other resting in her hair as it spun around a few loose strands. They felt like silk as they ran between his fingertips, and he smiled.

And then of course, as cliché moments go, her eyes popped open and she inclined her head towards him, a confused and dazed look on her rosy cheeks.

"Fred…?" She asked quizzically, glancing at their conjoined hands. Fed felt the heat of a volcano rapidly shove it's way up to his forehead as he stuttered, trying his best to come up with a legitimate or charming excuse.

"Um…there was a…a bug in your hair…and I thought it was going to…uh…bite…your hand." He said, clearing his throat at the end, looking away from her questioning eyes. Oh yeah, real smooth Fred.

"Okay than." Hermione said sarcastically, pushing herself off of him and leaving without another word into the bathroom. Fred let out a staggered breath, running his hands up and down his face, trying to rub away the totally un-manly blush that had marked its territory on his cheeks.

………

Hermione slammed the bathroom door shut immediately, the look of sarcasm draining from her face. It was replaced by a look of sheer stupidity and horror. What the hell had she just done? She woke up on top of Fred Weasley.

Whimpering slightly, she hid her face in her hands and sank down the door on her back until she was sitting on the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest and began to think about the situation.

Option A: We forget it never happened and go back to our normal lives.

Option B: I act disgusted and insist that I spend the night at the Burrow

Option C: I demand that we get a divorce. Immediately.

Option D: Admit that I enjoyed it.

Option A was highly unlikely, so that was a no. Option B may work, but Fred's feeling would definitely be hurt. Option C made no sense because she would just have to re-marry within the week since the marriage law. Ugh, it seemed hopeless.

And of course, Option D floated in her mind like one of those really annoying flies in the summer that zoom and hover by your ear, buzzing in the night until you finally swat it away, only so it can come back five minutes later.

Hermione groaned. The truth was, she had enjoyed…a little. The way Fred fit against her so perfectly was both pleasant and scary at the same time. Closing her eyes, she remembered the way his arms had wrapped around her and held her close to his chest. She could still smell the musky cologne that radiated off him, a mixture of ginger-spice and a spring day after a storm. Does he always smell like that in the morning? If so, Hermione loved it.

She banged her head on the doorway as if to beat the thoughts out of her brain. Fred knocked on the other side.

"Hey, are you okay in there? You keep groaning. Stomach ache?" He asked sympathetically, his voice muffled by the door in between them. At that moment, Hermione wished she could kiss the guy who invented doors.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She responded quickly and as normally as possible, shuddering slightly from the tone of his voice. It was so uncomfortable sounding like it took all his energy just to shove the words out of his throat. Hermione cringed and stood, balancing herself on her feet. This was going to be a long day.

………

"I dunno, and then we just woke up in each other's arms! I don't know what to do Ginny!" Hermione cried exasperatingly, throwing her head back down on the bar with a bang. Ginny looked slightly surprised at Hermione's outburst, but waved it off with a wave of her hand for another firewhiskey, which was brought to her instantly.

"Well, what else had been making everything so awkward?" Ginny asked, taking a sip of her drink and peering at Hermione. Hermione raised her head slightly and groaned.

"Well, when we went into that interrogation thing, which was dreadful by the way, my interrogator asked the most embarrassing question! She asked if Fred and I satisfy each other in bed!" Hermione cried again. Ginny promptly spit out her firewhiskey, conveniently on the bartender who was passing them by. She threw him a sympathetic glance at turned back to her friend, who had hidden her face again.

"Well?" She demanded. Hermione looked up, confused now. Ginny's eyes widened. "Do you?" Hermione's mouth popped open.

"Ginevra Weasley! We most certainly do NOT!" She blurted, a little too loudly. All eyes around the bar were on them, quizzical glances peering at them. Hermione threw some money at the bartender and whisked Ginny out of the bar before they could embarrass themselves anymore.

………

"I can't even look at her George! Every time I see her, my knees get all wobbly and stuff. Did you spike my syrup this morning?" Fred asked, lowering his hands from the air. George sat in front of his twin on a stool, shaking his head empathetically. Fred groaned and rubbed his face with frustration, his ears redder then ever.

"Look mate, you've known it for awhile, but I'm just gonna throw it out there for consideration; have you ever thought that maybe you actually…might…fancy her?" George asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Fred stopped pacing and turned to his twin, a look of pure shock on his open mouthed face.

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" He shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the store. George rolled his eyes.

"C'mon Fred, knees go weak, uncomfortable blushing, it's so obvious that you might like her. It's not a big deal." George commented casually, standing from the stool and crossing the room to a large cardboard box. Fred ignored him and moaned, sitting lamely on the floor, running his fingers through his hair.

There's no way. He thought. Absolutely no way I could fancy Hermione. Just because she's my wife doesn't mean anything. With a frown, he realized how odd-sounding that last thought had been. His attention was called back to George when he sat down next to him with a small vial in his hands.

"Well, here's your savior." George said holding the bottle out for Fred. Inside was a teal-ish color with small sparkles. Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Love Test?" He asked. The Love Test was supposed to bring out another's feelings for you, no matter how deep they were. However, if the victim didn't have any feelings whatsoever, you'd be sporting a rather nasty pimple on your forehead as a side effect. George smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm saying, give Hermione the love potion. If it doesn't work, you can stay with me until the pimple goes away. However, if it does work…well, you'll know what to do." And with a quick, sly smile, he dropped the vial into Fred's pocket.