"I can't lay here anymore." Hermione sighed quietly to herself, sliding her feet off the bed and onto the cold hardwood. She tiptoed quietly the out of the room, listening to Ron's snores as she went, and made her way to the living room.

Hermione plopped down on the couch with a yawn and checked the clock on the mantel. "3:45 AM, of course." She grumbled sullenly to herself. "Haven't slept a wink tonight and this is all Fred's fault. 'You are the new Molly Weasley. Taking care of the homestead.'" Hermione mimicked his voice, scrutinizing their short conversation. "'What happened to the brightest witch of her age?' She turned into an adult, that's what. That's what people do!" Hermione yelled in frustration.

"Besides, I've done things in my life: I helped find the Philosopher's Stone, I helped the Order keep the prophecy away from Death Eaters, I bloody helped find and destroy all the horocruxes, not to mention I fought in the war that brought down Voldemort! I had adventures. I did things. That's enough, right?" Hermione looked around her apartment; neat shelves filled with alphabetically ordered books in the living room, the kitchen with everything in its place, the foyer with their robes hung up neatly; they seemed to mock her.

"My life doesn't need to be exciting now." Hermione said, but even as the words left her lips, she knew it was a lie. From the moment she and Ron had gotten home from the Burrow, what Fred had said was eating away at her. She couldn't make it through a simple thought without it being reverted to what he'd said. Her mind didn't even have to be in the realm of their conversation and it would switch, though her mind seemed to be there quite often.

She'd thought about her life with it's day-to-day, never changing, never ending routine. Get up, go to work, come home, cook dinner, listen to the quidditch game, go to bed. Always, without fail.

"Stop! Stop it, Hermione. You have a wonderful life with a guy that loves you! So what if it's a bit boring?" But there it was, right? The admittance of it, the fact that her like was boring. She paced the length of the tidy living room, mumbling to herself. "Dammit, Fred." She groaned, grabbing a random book from a shelf and going back to the couch.

She opened the book to a random page and noticed it was Gone with the Wind. She read a few pages and sighed to herself. Were her Scarlet days over before she'd realized they'd come at all? Where was her Rhett Butler? She never got to have the passionate love with a fire that burned for more; Scarlet was scarcely sixteen and had already had more men than Hermione had in her whole life. Hermione remembered her angsty teenage days, dreaming of a tall, dark, and handsome wizard to come flying up on a white broom and whisk her away to a life full of enthusiastic love.

Hermione quickly got up and exchanged the book for a different one.

The Hobbit, a tale of a man forced into an adventure he didn't really want, but it ends up being an amazing point in his life. Am I like a hobbit now? Hermione thought. Minus the short stature and hairy feet, have I become a simple, semi-reclusive, hobbit? Hobbits were known for having their routines and zero adventures, had she become one herself?

Hermione lay down on her couch and tried to force sleep to come.

"Hermione," Ron groaned as he stumbled into the living room, heading to the kitchen. "Is breakfast ready yet?"

Hermione shot straight up on the couch and quickly looked at the clock. 6:58 AM. "Dammit." she muttered, jumping off the couch and rushing past her sleepy-eyed boyfriend. "I overslept, Ron. You'll just have to make your own breakfast." She ran to the bathroom to quickly wash her face and change for work.

"What?" Ron said as he slouched in the doorway to the bathroom. Hermione continued to rub the soap on her tired features.

"Sorry, but I have a meeting at 7:30." She finally replied after dabbing the water from her eyes. "I didn't sleep well last night, so I guess I over slept." She said, gently pushing past him to get to their closet.

"Well, what do I do?" Ron followed her into the small room.

"You cook, Ronald." She sighed, searching for her robes.

"Cook what?" His face was filled with confusion, which she had seen before, but never in such a simple circumstance.

"Well, whatever you want, sweetie." She answered lightly. She knew he relied on her for things, but never imagined he did this much. I'm not your mom! She caught herself thinking, but shook the thought straight out of her mind.

She slid her work robes over her head and turned to look at Ron again. His face was still confused as if he didn't understand what was happening. "Well, we have cereal, or you could make some toast in the muggle toaster. I think we may have some leftovers. I really have to go though." She kissed him on the cheek, grabbed her briefcase, and walked out the front door.

Her meeting lasted forever. It also didn't help that instead of listening to the hour-and-a-half, one-sided conversation on the increasing number of underage wizarding accidents, she thought about Fred. First about his stupid comments the night before, but she'd already come to terms with that being partly true. Her mind floated to his silly candy idea, then to the way he talked about it. The way his eyes lit up and he seemed so excited, as if he was going to burst with happiness at any moment. He acted the same as he had in school, still so excited to create things and show people what he'd done. Hermione, herself, hadn't felt like that in years. She loved working in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but it didn't excite her anymore; there's only so many times under-aged wizardry and secrecy can make a girl happy about going to work.

But Fred, he was different. His every waking moment was an adventure. Dawn till dark, it was anything but boring. Every Sunday he or George had a new story to tell about something that had happened at the store; they'd created a new product, some American had bought them out of an entire stock of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, or her favorite story, a kid tripped, knocking over a full case of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, making them have to close the store because they couldn't see anything for hours. No matter the day, there was always action, peaking their interest for day-to-day work. Hermione admired that. Hermione wanted that.

She walked slowly back to her office, stopping to talk to a few co-workers on her way, anything that would reduce the time between sitting down at her desk, and leaving for lunch. Eventually she did reach her office doors and, sighing, walked in to fill out the monotonous piles of paperwork.

She made it all the way to 11 o'clock before she got so bored she couldn't handle it. As she leaned back in her worn out swivel chair she heard the faint knocking of an owl at her window. She lurched out from behind her desk, ready for the well-needed distraction. She lightly grabbed the parchment from the small bird's mouth and went back to sit atop her desk as she opened it. It read:

Hermione-Homemaker,

Lunch at the new restaurant across the way from Ollivanders? 11:45?

No reply necessary, I'll be there,

The attractive twin.