A/N: Hey everyone! I know it's been a little while since I've updated, but I appreciate you coming back and sticking with the story. I still have a very clear plan of where I'd like to go and I have every intention of finishing.

Thanks again to everyone who's been kind enough to leave me a review. I have another favor to ask of you, though. So far, we know that Hermione is making plans to "torture" Fred by coming up with pranks that'll drive him crazy. I'd love it if you would give me some suggestions about what kind of pranks you'd like to see Hermione pull off. I would of course give you proper credit and be eternally grateful for your ideas!

And finally, the "kissing facts" in this chapter were found in an article on AOL personals. I spotted them a few weeks ago and thought they were interesting, so I hope you think so, too. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Bottled Rage

After leaving Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Hermione decided to take the long way to Quality Quidditch Supplies. She was in no rush to stand around and wait while Harry and Ron drooled over the newest model of broomstick. On her way, she stopped at a magazine kiosk and browsed the titles. She picked up the newest copy of Witch Weekly and flipped through the pages. About halfway through, one particular article caught her eye.

10 THINGS YOU NEVER KNEW ABOUT KISSING

She snorted with laughter. Hermione had always assumed kissing was a fairly straightforward concept. Were there really ten things she didn't know about locking lips? Normally she wouldn't care, but the recent events with Fred had sparked her curiosity. She began to read the article, only to have the magazine snatched away from her by the owner of the stand.

"No freebies," the gray-haired witch said shortly. "Pay for it or leave."

Hermione blinked. She didn't really want the magazine, and it would only take her thirty seconds to glance over the list, but that didn't seem to matter to the old woman. With a sigh, Hermione purchased the copy of Witch Weekly and walked away without another word. It was too nice a day and she was in too good a mood to start an argument over a silly magazine. As she continued down Diagon Alley, she opened again to the kissing article and began reading its introduction. She'd only gotten through five words before she was interrupted again—this time by Ron's excited voice.

"Hermione!" he shouted. He and Harry weaved through the crowds, coming toward her with wide, matching smiles. Ron was holding a square package tight against his chest.

"Are you finished already?" Hermione asked in shock. She couldn't remember the last time her best friends left that Quidditch shop willingly, without her dragging them out by the collars.

"Yeah. Check this out," Ron said, holding up his box. "It's called a Hot Quaffle. You toss it around in a circle as quick as you can without dropping it. Harry says it's like a muggle game—what was it? Hot Turnip?"

"Potato," Harry corrected with a smile.

"Yeah, whatever." Ron was beaming as he read the side of the box. "And they even give you a spell that can make it explode."

"Explode?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Well, not into a thousand little pieces or anything. I guess it sort of puffs a bunch of smoke in your face and makes a loud noise. Isn't it great?"

Hermione laughed. "Sure, Ron. Great." As she looked more closely at the package, she asked, "How much did you spend on this?"

"It wasn't that expensive," Harry said defensively, noting Hermione's disapproval.

"Harry and I split the cost," added Ron. "Besides, this thing is worth it. Let's go home so we can try it out!"

He darted past Hermione in a flurry of excitement, Harry following closely behind. She had no other option than to roll her eyes and trail after them.

When the trio finally returned to the Burrow, Harry and Ron hurried out to the garden to experiment with their new toy. Hermione joined them mostly out of curiosity—she wanted to see who would get a face full of smoke first. Sitting under her favorite tree, she stretched her legs out in front of her and watched her friends. They poked and prodded the Quaffle, examining it like it was some kind of dangerous animal. After a few minutes, Ron decided to pick it up. He held it loosely, tossing it back and forth between his hands.

"It's not doing anything!" he announced angrily. He turned toward Hermione, as if she could tell him how to make the thing work. She shrugged, no more knowledgeable than Ron.

"Maybe you should read the instructions," she suggested, knowing they hadn't done so.

Ron grumbled at the idea and chucked the Quaffle at Harry, who caught it against his chest and took his turn at investigating it. After a few moments, his puzzled expression shifted to surprise, then pain.

"Ow!" he exclaimed in a yelp. He threw the ball back at Ron and shook his hands to cool them. Ron caught the Quaffle instinctually, unaware that the product had begun performing. He only held it a second before he realized it, though. With a disturbingly girlish squeak, he juggled the Quaffle clumsily until he was able to thrust it back toward Harry. They continued this pattern for five full minutes before Harry gathered enough common sense to toss the Hot Quaffle on the grass.

Hermione, watching the show a comfortable distance away, was unable to control her laughter. She couldn't help it; seeing her best friends screeching and howling every time they touched the ball was undeniably hilarious. With some effort, she managed to cease her giggling long enough to pick up the empty Hot Quaffle box. A label on the front corner read "For Ages 3 and Up." Well, if toddlers could use the product, then Harry and Ron should be able to handle it, too.

Hermione skimmed over the instructions, still laughing. She read aloud, "To activate the Hot Quaffle, hold between hands for five seconds. Hot Quaffle will deactivate itself after two minutes of nonuse."

Ron rolled his eyes, blowing on his palms. "Now you tell us."

Though their first experience with the Hot Quaffle had been unpleasant, Hermione knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't be deterred for long. The two of them were at it again after only ten minutes. This time, though, Hermione didn't watch them with as much interest. She suddenly remembered the magazine she bought, so she went to the house to retrieve it.

"All right," she said, dropping beside the tree again. Harry and Ron were still preoccupied with the Hot Quaffle, hardly noticing her short absence. "Ten things I never knew about kissing. We'll see." Hermione opened to the article and began reading.

1. Just like fingerprints, no two lip impressions are alike.

Hermione grunted. She remembered hearing that from Lavender Brown. Next, please.

2. Talk about a workout! While a simple peck uses only two muscles, a passionate kiss uses all thirty-four muscles in your face.

Well, that seemed logical. She still wasn't terribly impressed.

3. Men who kiss their partners before leaving for work average a higher salary than those who don't.

4. The average person spends 336 hours of his or her life kissing.

5. The average woman kisses 29 men before she gets married.

Hermione lifted a brow at those last few. It looked like she'd have some work to do if she wanted to catch up to the "averages."

6. Two out of every three couples turn their heads to the right when they kiss.

That one made sense, too. Vaguely, she recalled that she and Fred both turned their heads to the right when they'd kissed. Only, the rule couldn't apply to them since they weren't a couple.

7. XOXO! Ever wonder how an X came to represent a kiss? In the Middle Ages, those who couldn't read signed their name with an X. They would then kiss the mark as a sign of sincerity. Eventually, the X has come to stand for the kiss itself.

Okay. She didn't know that one.

8. Research shows that kissing improves skin, helps circulation, prevents tooth decay, and can relieve headaches.

9. Kissing releases the same neurotransmitters as running or bungee jumping. What a rush!

Hermione laughed aloud. This silly little article was putting her experiences with Fred into great perspective. No wonder she'd felt practically giddy after kissing him under the tree. She wasn't going crazy. It was a biological response! Not only was the kiss a good way to fluster Fred—it had been healthy for her, too!

10. Recent studies indicate that swapping spit can encourage the production of antibodies to help fight infections in our systems. Who needs medicine?

She stuck her tongue out at this one. If the idea of "swapping spit" hadn't been so disgusting, Hermione may have found the last fact fascinating. It seemed that the magazine hadn't been a complete waste after all. She'd learned a few interesting things—relatively worthless things, but interesting nonetheless.

While she browsed through a few other articles, Harry and Ron began trying the spell that would make their Hot Quaffle explode. She overheard Harry explain that the incantation would start an internal timer. Once the time expired, the Quaffle would blow up in the hands of whoever was unlucky enough to be holding it.

Hermione happened to glance up just as the Quaffle landed in Ron's possession. Before he could send it away again, a cloud of purple smoke erupted from it with a huge pop. The smoke eventually cleared, revealing a layer of blackish soot caked to Ron's face. Harry toppled to the ground in a fit of hysterics and Hermione covered her mouth to hide her growing smile. They would be amused by that stupid Quaffle for weeks to come.

Suddenly, and for no obvious reason, Hermione was bludgeoned with the memory of that morning. She needed to brainstorm ways to drive Fred crazy over the next two weeks! She was almost shocked that she'd forgotten—but it didn't matter. She had all afternoon.

After finding some parchment from the house, she sat outside and let her imagination wander. She made a list of what she knew aggravated Fred, then tried to base her plans around those elements. It wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be; all she had to do was imagine what would have frustrated her, had she been working on an important project for school. With this method, Hermione developed an extensive list of pranks to choose from. Now the only question was when to begin.

The answer came to her later that evening at dinner. While the family ate and chatted merrily, Hermione kept a curious watch on Fred. He was obviously still upset about that morning's incident at the shop, and he made no effort to conceal his anger. He ate his food deliberately while shooting glares at Hermione, then stood abruptly from the table and retreated to his room.

It was then that Hermione decided that one prank a day was quite enough. If she pushed it any further than that, Fred was liable to completely crack. She'd never seen him so prone to a mental breakdown, so she couldn't be sure what would happen afterward. It wasn't her intention to drive him to that point, anyway. She only wanted to harass him, to tease him. That wasn't so horrible, was it?

No, she didn't think it was. She would start tomorrow.

The next day was a Wednesday. It was also the first official day of Operation Bottled Rage—the nickname Hermione had come up with for her devious scheme. Sure, it was just a cute derivative of the potion that started this mess, but Hermione thought it was clever. And after what she'd seen of the Bottled Euphoria's results, it seemed fitting, too.

The twins had gone to work early again, closing the morning window for the delivery of her prank. That didn't bother her too greatly, though. Hermione could wait all day if she had to—her first plan didn't require much time or effort. It could be executed in about fifteen minutes that evening. Besides, Fred was likely to be more agitated after a day at work, thus making Hermione's prank all the more effective.

For most of the morning and afternoon, Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys kept busy with chores. Mrs. Weasley made a lengthy list of tasks, including de-gnoming the garden, tidying up the shed, and cleaning the bathroom. Instead of subjecting themselves to sweaty yard work, Hermione and Ginny offered to go grocery shopping for Mrs. Weasley.

The girls were at the store for nearly two hours. When they got back to the house, they found Harry and Ron in the middle of the garden, taking turns flinging gnomes out of the plants. After the groceries had been taken inside, Hermione went out to watch the spectacle. One particular gnome seemed to be giving Harry some trouble—he chased it around in circles and tripped over weeds in attempt to catch it. Hermione couldn't see the little creature, but she could certainly hear it cackling as it frolicked through the undergrowth.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron shouted. "Herd him over this way!"

Harry stood up from his most recent tumble and steered the nuisance toward Ron. The latter pounced upon the gnome, trapping it under his arms, and popped back up. As he hurled the troublesome creature away, it wailed and howled in protest. Then, with a thud, it smacked against the side of the house.

"Oops," said Ron, cringing. Severity of the collision aside, it didn't look like the gnome was seriously hurt. He staggered to his feet a few seconds later and wobbled away.

Both Harry and Ron cracked up, guffawing so loudly it seemed to echo across the lawn.

"Will you please keep it down? I'm trying to work!"

Hermione craned her neck toward the house in bewilderment. There was no mistaking it—the irritated tone, the clipped exclamations. Fred was home.

He slammed his window shut again, leaving Harry and Ron shrugging. They weren't concerned with Fred's unwarranted complaints, and resumed laughing with as much fervor as before. Hermione, on the other hand, was still confused. It was only three in the afternoon. Fred and George weren't supposed to be home from work for another few hours.

"Ronald," she called, marching toward the garden.

He looked at her warily. "What?"

"What are Fred and George doing home already?"

"Oh, that," he said offhandedly. "George sent Fred home early. I guess he started yelling at a customer or something, and George got tired of dealing with it."

She was surprised, but she figured she shouldn't have been. "I see."

As Ron and Harry went back to de-gnoming, Hermione was struck with a thought. Now was as good a time as any to perform prank number one. Fred was bound to be irritable, having actually been sent home from work. She had to act.

She went into the house, hoping she wouldn't attract any attention. As Hermione passed through the kitchen, she saw Crookshanks sitting by the table. Perfect. She picked up the giant ball of fur and carried him up the stairs with her to Fred's room.

Hermione knocked three times on the door, attempting to cover her smile. While she waited, she ruffled the fur on Crookshanks' head and bounced him in her arms. He tried uselessly to escape from Hermione's grip, becoming jittery when she wouldn't release him. Several moments later, Fred finally opened up and peered out at his uninvited guest. When he saw it was Hermione, he narrowed his eyes into thin slits.

"Can I help you?" he asked shortly.

"I was just wondering why you're home so early," she replied in the sweetest tone she could muster. She chose not to mention that Ron had just told her the reason.

Fred sighed. "If you must know, there was a customer at the shop that kept messing with our displays. Sound familiar?" She blushed at the memory. "When I asked him to leave, he started crying like a little girl. I decided to come home and do more productive work."

It was amazing how stories could change. "Oh," Hermione said. "What are you working on?"

"What's it to you?"

She shrugged. "I'm just curious." Crookshanks fidgeted in her arms, but she ignored him.

"I'm filling out some inventory records and placing orders for supplies." Fred moved aside to show Hermione his work station, which was cluttered with papers and rolls of parchment. "As you can see, nothing is organized. I'm trying to sort it all out."

"Ah." Hermione knew she had to take advantage of this opportunity. She slackened her grip on Crookshanks, just enough so he could struggle out of her arms. But, instead of scurrying into Fred's room like she planned, the cat launched himself directly on top of Fred's face.

"Oy!" Fred yelped. He toppled over backwards, trying to pull a hissing, spitting Crookshanks off his head. Hermione's eyes bulged as she hurried in after them. She grabbed Crookshanks and yanked, but her cat was firmly locked into place. Fred's cries of shock and pain were muffled by the orange ball of fur, and he writhed about as he tried to free himself.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione shrieked. "Crookshanks, no! Bad Crookshanks!" She was finally able to remove her cat from Fred's face and shoo him out of the room. "Oh, goodness, are you okay?"

Fred sat up, grumbling and breathing heavily. He didn't look as bad as Hermione would have thought—there were only a few minor scratches on his cheeks, and one just above his eyebrow. He seemed more shaken up than anything else.

"What is wrong with that cat?!" he demanded angrily. "You'd better keep an eye on him, or I'll turn him into a bloody pigeon!"

Hermione blinked at the randomness of that threat. "A pigeon?" she asked curiously, but shook her head. "Never mind. Are you okay?"

Fred snorted. "Sure, just fine. I was only attacked by a rabid, pig-faced cat, no big deal."

"Your scratches aren't very deep," she assessed. "I'm really sorry. I don't know why he did that. He's usually so sweet."

"Of course he is," he replied sarcastically, standing up slowly. "Could you please leave now?"

She was taken aback at the forward request, but she figured he probably had a right to be upset. The prank wasn't supposed to be painful—she'd only meant for Crookshanks to run around the room and make a mess of Fred's papers. She probably should have foreseen the volatility of her cat.

Hermione nodded and left Fred's room, mumbling another apology over her shoulder. Once she shut the door behind her, she sighed loudly. Well, it may not have been exactly what she'd planned, but it was definitely effective. What a way to kick off Operation Bottled Rage.