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Review offering insight to the story:
"I figured it'd be difficult to write a believable friendship between Hermione and the twins, especially one with them as close as they are here, but I'd say this is quite well done. They really do seem very close, what with Hermione practicing to be the 'triplet' in their conversational trade-offs. Fred and George are deliciously IC (the twins are my favorite characters) and Hermione isn't NEARLY as OOC as I expected her to have to be. I do hope you continue: I quite enjoy this story, a few minor spelling glitches aside." - Morkhan of FanFiction net.
Thank you to the following reviewers: Jester08, Anois, worldsapart, Dizi 85, xoxoBlackOwl, immortal7, Binx23, brokenblackangel, michelline, disneyrulz23, mudprincess, SexiAnglo, Secret Thought, wasu, kayko 15, FmaFan10, snapehermionelover, misssweetsweet, doornumberthree, Shdwcat27, bethygirl94, Galleon-to-Galleon, Sampdoria, aniweasley, kazfeist, pstibbons, sweetgirl23, starlily, PrincessAsbach, F75, ScrewyLouie12, WeezeyTwin, courtney, FredWeasleyLover1126, Kou Shun'u, Robgirl, Hippiefaery, emptyli'firefly, ProperT, untamedspiral, pstibbons and Morkhan.
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While You Were Gone
Interlude 2/3
"Evolution"
-o-o-o-o-o-
Note: AHR – After Harry and Ron
-o-o-o-o-o-
A Random Evening
George stood up from the kitchen table, stretching his back and holding the papers of the shop's weekly earnings in his hand. He walked toward the living room, intending to ask Hermione if she could look something over for him. As he opened his mouth and looked over to his best mate though, he found her cuddled up on the couch with his brother, watching the Muggle telly.
Fred was sprawled out across the couch, head propped on one curved arm. He had the other around Hermione's waist while she lay on her side, pressed up against his chest. Their legs were entwined and their heads close together. It wasn't unusual to find them in similar positions, George was getting used to the way they were naturally inclined to touch each other or show physical affection more than they did with others. Neither of them seemed to notice what they were doing and if it was ever brought up they were dismissive.
They laughed at something said on the screen and George watched their faces light up with amusement. This was one of the many shows that they regularly watched together. Oddly enough, he was fairly sure it was called, "Friends." George didn't watch much of the telly, but he enjoyed a few shows with them the odd night. He preferred the movie nights they had together. Nightly sitcoms seemed to be a relaxation period for Fred and Hermione though and George wasn't sure he wanted to interrupt it with work.
His eyes fell and he noticed that Fred seemed to be stroking Hermione's stomach. His expression, eyes intent on the telly, told George that he had no idea he was doing it. Just as unconscious of her behavior, Hermione's toes were rubbing a pattern up and down Fred's calf, having pushed his pant leg up a few inches. Despite the fact that Fred looked exactly like him, and George couldn't see Hermione as anything but a friend and sister, he thought they looked oddly perfect together. He figured it had to do more with the fact that he knew their personalities so well. He watched them a moment longer, noticing the way Fred whispered against her ear, despite the fact that they thought they were the only two in the room, and how Hermione's mouth curved in a secretive smile.
George smiled to himself, it seemed things were evolving in the trio. It didn't scare or worry him like he thought it might. Instead, he found he was really quite happy for his brother and best mate. If anybody could make it together, it was those two. He'd bet his pranking nature on it!
-o-o-o-o-o-
Mid-September, 1997
"You should just tell her," George told him, shaking his head and watching his brother pace all over the living room.
"Tell who what?" Fred grumbled. "It's late! She should be back already! Where'd this bloke take her anyway? Wha'd'we even know about him? He could be a supporter of Voldemort! Or worse, he could be a descendant of Snape!" he exclaimed, his expression twisted with disgust. "His hair looked greasy!" He pointed at George as if somehow proving his point, his expression wide and worried.
"His hair was wet. I think he was freshly showered, mate. No worries on the Snape front," he replied indulgently, rather enjoying his brother's rant.
"Well he was practically sneering. He could be a Malfoy cousin or something, and that's no better," Fred told him, shaking his head warningly. His pacing was making George a little dizzy so he blinked rapidly and looked away for a moment.
"Pretty sure 'Mione said he was muggleborn, brother o' mine. You're worrying for no reason." Leaning back in his chair, he watched a myriad of expressions cross Fred's face. He'd been seeing it for weeks, the little wistful looks Fred had been casting her way and the extra helpful way he was around her. Opening doors, offering to carry things for her, always lending an ear to her every thought. Not that he'd ever really ignored her, but now it was like he couldn't stop doing things in case she forgot him. Which was ridiculous! Hermione treated Fred and George like a much more amusing pair of Ron and Harry's. She'd even finished their sentences from time to time.
"Yeah, sure, that's what any conniving Death Eater git would say!" Fred told him, nodding as his eyes thinned with suspicion. "Did she mention where they were going for dinner?" he wondered, his voice taking on a curiously innocent tone.
George sat up straight; alert. "No! No way, Fred. Look, 'Mione is one of my best mates. And I know you've got a fancy for her--"
"I do not!" he denied, his voice rather shrill.
"--But I'm not going to ruin this date for her. If she doesn't like him then maybe you'll finally pluck up the courage and ask her out and if she does, well, it's unlikely it'll last." He shrugged, half-smirking. "Let's face it. The boy was way too jittery for a confident and strong bird like 'Mione. He's probably squirming in his seat as she goes on and on about Elf rights and the last criminal she brought down at work. He'll be out the door before you can say, 'smartest witch of her age'." George chuckled at Fred's relieved expression.
Coming to a stop in his pacing, his body visibly relaxing and he was the picture of his regular calm twin-self once more. "You're right. Poor guy doesn't know what he got himself into. She shouldn't scare them off so quickly with all her talk on Elf rights. He doesn't even stand a chance. With her serious gaze asking him for his opinion. And it better be the right one or he's toast," he said, suddenly rallying for the guy he knew wouldn't get the girl.
The door opened and Hermione walked in, purse in hand and a confused expression on her face. "What are you two still doing up? You have to open the shop in..." Her eyes wandered to the clock on the fireplace mantle, "six hours. You'll get hardly any sleep," she said, shaking her head at them questioningly.
"He was a nice guy, Hermione. It's really too bad," Fred said, ignoring her question and moving to pat her shoulder. "You can tell me all about the dud of a date in the morning." He walked past her in the direction of his room, a bit of a skip to his step.
Her brow screwed together and she frowned at him. "Wait! How would you know if it was a dud or not?" she wondered.
Fred turned slowly, his expression suddenly unsure. "So it went well then?" he asked, his voice a little higher than usual. A scowl was slowly rising on his mouth and George watched avidly, his eyes darting between the two.
Her hip jutted out to one side and her head cocked. "No! You'll never guess what he said, Fred," she told him, suddenly walking forward. She kicked her shoes off and Fred flicked his wand, absently levitating them to the mat by the door, the one Hermione put there and told them quite sternly that the shoes were not to be left anywhere but on it. "D'you know what his opinion on Elf Rights was?" she asked him, turning around so he could help her out of her jacket, which he did before then levitating it over to the closet.
Crossing his arms over his chest, his interest in the subject intent as he leaned against the door frame. "Didn't think they were any better than pets?" he asked, lifting a brow knowingly.
"Yes! Exactly!" she exclaimed, huffing. "Oh Fred! When am I going to meet a man who understands me?" she wondered, moving to wrap her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his chest and sighing.
"I'm sure he's out there, 'Mione. Any bloke would be lucky to have you. You want to stay with me tonight?" he asked, rubbing her back soothingly.
She looked up at him from below her dark lashes, her chin braced on his chest. "Can I wear your Beater's jersey?" she asked, her voice small and hopeful.
"Of course," he agreed, nodding with a grin.
"All right," she said, trying to sound reluctant but failing. She turned, looking over at George who sat watching them from the couch, amused. "You going to join us George?" she asked, lifting a brow. On occasion, the three of them had fallen asleep watching Hermione's Muggle telly or while talking in one of their beds. Unfortunately, while George's sleep was always brotherly in nature, meaning he never ventured near either of them, the two of them always wound up cuddled to each other.
"And get in between your love fest? I think not," he said, shaking his head as he ignored their looks of confusion. Oblivious, the both of them! Getting up from the couch, he made his way toward his room. "Besides, I have work in six hours, I'd rather not to be kept awake by all your chattering."
Shrugging, Fred and Hermione walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. George sighed, wondering when they were going to see what was staring them in the face. He'd considered doing something drastic to get their attention but worried it might just make them doubt their natural feelings; so all WWW goods were out. He figured their relationship was going to have to take a natural course toward what was obviously coming and until then, he'd have to suffer. At least they were never boring!
-o-o-o-o-o-
Mid-November
George watched the conversation between Alicia Spinnet and Hermione from afar, pretending to put all of his attention on the shelves he was haphazardly stocking. Her dark hair was pulled back, falling down her shoulder in a thick ponytail. In recent months, she'd been stopping by the shop to talk to Hermione about whatever it was girls talked about. George only ever remembered discussing Quidditch with Alicia and it had been some time since he'd been able to talk to her. Seeing more of her reminded him of the fancy he'd had on her since his sixth year and the Yule Ball they went to together. She'd never so much as hinted at feelings towards him though and treated him like just another old classmate that she'd uncomfortably make small talk with. He'd recently realized he wasn't nearly as suave with women if he fancied them, instead he knocked things over and talked higher than usual.
"George?" he heard Hermione's voice call and tried to look as if he hadn't been watching them. "D'you have any fake wands left? The display is empty and Alicia wanted to get one to trick her little brother."
"Er," he mumbled, thinking back to the stock they had in the back. His eyes wandered to Alicia, thinking to start a conversation about little brothers, but then he felt his throat tighten and when he stood up, he knocked into a display of Ton-Tongue Toffees and reached out frantically to catch them, his face turning an impressive shade of red. Hermione hurried over to help, telling Alicia it was okay when she too tried to bend down and help pick them up. With their heads bowed together beneath the table, he whispered furiously at her, "HELP ME! I'm turning into Longbottom!"
Snorting, Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know Neville has recently become less... clumsy."
"I don't care," he said, his voice a loud whisper.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Alicia called out to them, startling him so much he jumped and knocked his head on the top of the table.
Stifling her giggles, Hermione covered her mouth as George glared at her. "I'm sorry," she murmured, trying not to smile. "Just-- Just calm down, George. She's only a girl," she told him, her eyes wide and her shoulders lifting.
"Easy for you to say," he muttered, gathering more of the toffees.
"Okay." Sighing, she turned her eyes up in thought. "How about... You know how people always say they imagine their audience naked to calm down?" she asked him, lifting a brow.
"'Mione! I don't think that will work," he said, his face brightening even more. "That won't calm me down at all!"
Chuckling, Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I meant you could just imagine it's not her. Pretend you're talking to me. You're never like... this with me. Just try it!" she told him, coming out from beneath the table and dropping her armful of toffees on the display counter.
A moment later, after taking numerous deep breaths, George came out from beneath the table and put the last of the candies beside Hermione's, reminding himself that he could fix the display later. "Er, fake wand, was it?" he asked, his eyes darting from Alicia to Hermione.
"Yeah," Alicia said, smiling lightly and nodding. "Jeremy loves your shop. Unfortunately, he tests everything out on me. He's going back to school soon and I figured I'd replace his wand with a fake one. I'll put his real one in his trunk, but it'll get him right annoyed," she said, chuckling to herself.
George felt a smile form on his mouth, nodding. He could feel his heart beating erratically, but he tried his best to pretend it was just an every day conversation with Hermione. "Sibling rivalry; our best customers," he said, nodding.
"I bet."
George nodded before motioning to the back, "I'll see if I can find one for you. Was there any particular type you wanted?" he asked, crossing his arms nervously over his chest. "We have ones that turn into tin parrots. Or you could record singing on it and have it belt out a tune," he said, nodding.
"Well, I just want to bug him, not scare him with my singing voice," she replied, grinning.
Smiling, George shrugged, "You should hear Hermione sing!"
"Hey!" she exclaimed.
"Hermione's voice isn't that bad," Fred said, coming out from the back room. He crossed the room to lean his chin on her head, his hands falling to her hips.
Automatically leaning back, Hermione rested against him, smiling smugly. "Thank you," she said, before frowning at George.
"I mean, you remember Percy's singing voice, don't you? Hermione sings like an angel compared to him," Fred added, grinning.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "Hey, what were you doing in the back? I thought you went to get me lunch," she said, her brow furrowing.
Shrugging, his arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing her gently. "Got caught up. I was on my way out now. Why don't we just eat out?" Fred offered, his eyes venturing to Alicia and then looking over to his brother with mischief. "I'm sure George can help Spinnet here."
Catching on, Hermione nodded quickly as she stood forward. "Oh yes, sounds lovely. We should hurry, I have to get back soon. Let me know how it all turns out, Alicia," she called, walking backwards, her hand in Fred's as he quickly dragged her away before anybody could protest.
George watched his brother and best mate desert him, frowning to himself and shifting on his feet nervously.
"Are those two...?" Alicia's voice asked.
"Not yet. They're still in denial," George replied, too miffed at his flatmates to realize he wasn't as nervous.
She nodded slowly. "They'd make a nice couple. Lee mentioned she's all Fred really talks about."
"You're friends with Lee? I didn't know that," he replied, turning to her. He worried for a moment that perhaps his other best mate was dating his fancy and hadn't even mentioned it.
Alicia shrugged. "We chat from time to time. Ran into him at a Harpies game last week," she told him, her eyes falling to the display of Canary Creams on the front counter.
"Oh yeah? I was gonna go to that game. Got sidetracked though. Work and all. Got tickets to the Puddlemere game next weekend though. Box seats! Ollie scored them for me," he told her, taking a steadying breath, doing his best to pretend she was no different than the girl he regularly saw around his flat, book in hand or struggling with her Auror robes after work.
"Really? I love Puddlemere!" she told him, nodding. "Expensive tickets though. Never had the money or time to get to a game." She leaned back against the counter, the picture of laid back. "Ya think I could convince Ollie to send a couple tickets my way?" she wondered, smiling warmly at him.
Swallowing tightly, he shrugged jerkily. "I- Uh- I dunno." He let out a shaky breath and turned away for a moment. "I... I have an extra ticket if you want it."
"Oh?" she asked, her brows lifting.
"Yeah. I was gonna take 'Mione, Fred's watching the store for the day. But she only tolerates Quidditch in small doses. Even though most of her friends have been Quidditch lovers and she dated a Quidditch player in Hogwarts. You remember Krum? Anway, I'm sure she'll probably stay and man the store with Fred. I don't think she'd mind if you went instead, if you want that is..." He realized he was rambling and hoped she hadn't noticed. Judging by the amused smile on her face though, she had. "So, uh, would you like to? Go that is? With me?" He was going to kick himself later, he decided, for being so utterly ridiculous at charming a girl.
"Sure," she said, nodding happily. "I'd love to." She tipped her head, her brows furrowed. "D'you think you could get a third though? For my boyfriend?" She frowned, "Are the seats wide? He's a pretty big bloke." Her eyes widened with emphasis.
"Wha?" he asked, his brows raising and his face paling.
Snorting, she shook her head. "I'm just kidding." She laughed, reaching out to pat his arm. "You should've seen your face." Shaking her head, she smiled at him. "I'm not seeing anyone and Hermione already mentioned you aren't, so... it's a date then?" she asked, smiling up at him coquettishly.
Nodding, his voice caught in his throat. Still a little startled, he smiled awkwardly. She started backing up toward the door, waving goodbye. "Oh, er, what about the wand?" he asked, his voice rather high pitched.
"That's okay. I just remembered my parents banned us from using your products on each other," she said, winking at him before she left the shop.
Sighing, George leaned against the counter, smiling goofily. He'd have to thank Hermione and Fred later, they just helped make his day.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The Following Weekend
Licking the icing off of her finger, Hermione's brow furrowed as she noticed Fred reach out and swipe his finger along the side of the cake she'd just finished preparing. Making a noise of protest, she reached out and slapped the top of his hand with the wooden spoon she'd been using to ice the chocolate dessert.
"Oi!" Fred exclaimed, frowning at her. "Just following in your steps, love," he said, motioning to the finger she'd just pulled from her mouth.
"Yes, well, I wasn't eating it off the cake. This was leftover from the jar!" she told him, putting her hand on her jutted hip.
"Can I help it if you make a deliciously tempting cake, 'Mione?" he asked, lifting a brow and stepping closer to her, a charming smile transforming his formerly frowning face.
"You can do me a favor by not ruining my deliciously tempting cake with your dirty hands, Fred," she replied, lifting her chin defiantly.
Sighing with feigned remorse, he rolled his eyes heavenward. "And if I found some icing outside of the cake, would that be to your satisfaction?" he wondered, his voice lowering to an almost husky tone.
Hermione nodded, though she knew she just finished the last of what was left. "Of course," she replied, lifting a shoulder.
Instead of even checking the now empty jar of pink icing or the spoon that she was waving around, his hand reached across, thumb extended, and swiped the corner of her mouth slowly. Too surprised, Hermione didn't say anything or even move. She felt a shiver run down her spine as the pad of his thumb ran over her bottom lip and up the curve of her mouth. His eyes were connected with hers, a lovely shade of green that seemed darker than usual. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, a bright bit of pink icing sitting on the end. Without taking his eyes of hers, he wrapped his lips around the end, his tongue exiting to take away the sugary confection. Her mouth parted and a shaky sigh escaped, she wasn't sure she could say anything at all intelligent in that moment. His hand slowly fell from his mouth and his feet took a step forward. She could feel his bare toes against hers and her mind ran with questions and warnings, but she simply stared up at him, her head tilting back slightly. While he wasn't nearly as tall as Bill or Ron, he was still a handful of inches taller than her.
A wisp of red hair fell across his eye and her hand automatically reached up, like it had a thousand times before, brushing it back, fingers running around the curve of his ear. This time his mouth dropped open a tiny bit and a breathy sigh escaped his lips. He was so handsome, she admitted. His eyes had a quality to them she found mesmerizing, as if they were swirling and shimmering. His lips weren't chapped, like many of the boys she knew, but smooth and always looked as if they were on the verge of smiling. His freckles were oddly quite flattering on his face; not so many that it appeared he had a tan, like Charlie, but a pale spattering over his cheeks that were barely visible unless up close. His hair was a flaming shade of red, one she knew shone with gold threads when the light hit it. He had a strong jaw, one that made him look dangerous when clenched in anger.
Despite his humorous outlook on life, he had a strength to him that many simply overlooked. Living with the twins and being their best mates had it's advantages, especially when it came to them bearing no bodily concerns when having finished a shower or simply finding it too warm in the flat. They'd paraded around her shirtless more times than she could count and while she certainly found no qualms about it, she suddenly realized that knowing what Fred looked like beneath his t-shirt and jeans, made her a little squirmy. Her stomach jolted with the fact that she knew quite extensively what his long, wide-shouldered form looked like when laying comfortably on the couch or even on her bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of flimsy boxers. How many times had he fallen asleep talking to her in either of their beds, only to wake up with his arm curved around her waist and her body pulled up against his bare chest? She never once found it odd, despite knowing that there was a safety found in the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body; one that a friend probably shouldn't find in another. She may be an Auror, but she still took comfort knowing that in those moments, Fred was completely capable of protecting her.
She felt like she'd been staring at him for ages, when in reality very little time had passed. His eyes were still connected with hers, a myriad of emotions passing them so quickly she really couldn't decipher what he was thinking. His hand reached out, landing on her shoulder and slowly sliding down her arm, fingers moving deliciously slow across her skin, leaving in their wake a flood of gooseflesh. She felt his fingers brush over the underside of her wrist and suppressed a shiver that would have surely thrown her off her feet. His fingertips danced across the palm of her hand and she felt her eyes fluttering slightly. She wondered what they were doing, if she should say something or just let it all happen. An almost overwhelming barrage of feelings and emotion seemed to swell inside of her and she knew that some part of her was crying out for her to think about what was happening, while a whole other part was saying, "Just let it happen."
Her hand rose, reaching out, palm landing on his stomach and sliding over the top of his t-shirt, bunching the material slightly before her hand curved around his side. She could feel the heat of him through his shirt and that raised an oddly excited sigh in her throat, but she didn't let it out, her breath catching as he seemed to be moving closer again.
The door banged open, slapping against the wall as George came stomping through, frowning. "There better be some ice cream 'round here!" he exclaimed, looking glum.
Hermione and Fred had separated quickly, their hands returning to hang uselessly by their sides, eyes carefully avoiding each other.
"What's wrong?" Hermione wondered, moving over to stand next to the upset George. "Did your team lose?" George had been off on his date with Alicia to the Puddlemere game that she and Fred hadn't gone to, instead staying to take care of the shop. Business was slow though, almost non-existent really, so they closed up early and decided to bake something for Molly's Weasley picnic she was hosting the following afternoon. "Did, er, the date not pan out?" she asked, wincing sadly.
"Oh, the game was wonderful! Puddlemere won!" George said, but his voice seemed to raise with anger rather than excitement. "But I'd hardly call it a date. Our seats were next to a couple blokes that seemed to find Alicia fascinating. I hardly got a word in edgewise."
"Well, why didn't you just tell the chaps off? I'm sure Alicia would'nt've minded," Fred said, shrugging as he leaned back against the counter. Hermione found herself annoyed that he could so easily slip back into acting natural. She wondered then though, if perhaps she'd just blown the whole thing out of proportion. Yes, they were just friends, nothing was to come of it.
"She wouldn't have believed me if I said they were hitting on her," he muttered, tugging his coat off in a huff.
Hermione's forehead wrinkled. An entire game spent keeping her attention on them, how could she not notice? "Why not? Weren't they being obvious enough?"
He mumbled something incoherent and both Fred and Hermione furrowed their brows, taking a step closer. "What?"
"I said, because they were just ten years old," he told them, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.
Hermione and Fred's expressions cleared and then, as if they'd planned it, they simultaneously burst into laughter.
"Oh, ha ha, yes, it's very funny. My first date with the girl I've fancied for months and it's completely ruined by a couple of boys. Terribly funny." He sighed, shaking his head and walking toward the living room. "I knew I shouldn't've told you."
"Oh, George! George," Hermione called, getting her amusement under control. "We're sorry!"
"I'm not," Fred denied, following her into the living room.
Hermione plopped down next to George and patting his arm. "Don't worry. I'm sure they were no where near as charming as you. It's not as if Alicia returned their affection," she assured, shaking her head.
"I know that. I just..." He frowned. "It was our first date and I spent the majority of it fighting to get the attention away from two ten year olds. How pathetic is that?" He sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"Very," Fred told him, nodding. "Think of it this way though. It takes two of them to make one of you." He paused, grinning. "After all, they're only ten."
"Fred!"
Instead of being annoyed, George laughed, smiling lightly.
"Math doesn't lie, 'Mione," Fred said in a fake serious voice. Rolling her eyes, she sighed at the ridiculousness of her two friends.
-o-o-o-o-o-
A Few Days Later
"Have you been avoiding me?" Fred finally asked, the question had been plaguing him incessantly ever since the afternoon they'd spent together while George was at the Puddlemere game with Alicia. He knew he'd probably crossed that line that was simply uncrossable, but it worried him now that things would never return to normal. Which was simply unacceptable! Hermione was his best mate; the closest person to him, next to George. He couldn't just not be her best mate any longer. He knew that if their friendship fell apart, things would never be the same. She'd still be George's best mate, the family's pseudo daughter, and the girl who knew him better than any had before her.
Hermione looked up at him, her brow furrowed. The tight purse of her lips told him that she was trying not to show surprise at his abrupt attitude. She probably figured he'd just let it go, which he had, admittedly, almost done. He couldn't stand the way she seemed to exit a room as soon as he entered it though, or how she seemed to be standing closer to George rather than him, or that she didn't quite look him in the eye these last there days. "What? Don't be silly! Of course not," she said dismissively before returning her attention to her book.
George was currently out with Alicia, who was happy to agree to a second date. They were off to dinner, where George hoped there would be no infatuated boys to ruin the night. Fred had been trying to think of a way to broach the subject of her avoidance of him all night, and finally settled on simply asking her. He was sorry to realize that she was going to pretend it hadn't been happening.
Sighing, he sat forward on the couch, bracing his arms on his legs and staring at her until she finally lowered her book, feeling his eyes on her.
"What?" she asked, lifting a brow and appearing annoyed.
"I'm not being silly. You are avoiding me. You've been doing it ever since..." He paused, his jaw clenching for a moment.
"Ever since what?" she asked, her voice a little more harsh then usual.
Lifting his eyes, he stared at her. "'Mione, you're my best friend, I don't... I don't want to lose that because we had a... whatever," he muttered, turning his eyes away.
He would admit, if only to himself, that Hermione meant more to him than she probably should. She was attractive, most definitely, especially with the way the flickering fire was lighting up her features. Her hair was a golden brown, still thick and curly, outrageously wild but incredibly soft to the touch and smelled like wild flowers. Her eyes were a bright, inquisitive brown that had specks of green that he could only see when very close to her. Her lips were pink and plump; they looked soft and were thoroughly tantalizing when she was grinning. Her body, while rather short, was made of soft curves and a flat stomach. She wasn't as thin as many witches seemed to be lately, but naturally curvy with an hourglass figure and the softest skin he'd ever touched.
More than that, however, was the personality he'd grown to love. She'd begun showing her more mischievous and rule-breaking side, joining in their pranks and even provoking them to pull them at times. She'd let herself relax around them, becoming more open to learning about Quidditch, and enjoying a game or two, or running the shop from time to time, knowing the ins and outs of all of their merchandise. She had, quite easily, become one of them. She wasn't a sister though, he found he couldn't really think of her in a family way. He knew George did; his twin considered her his best mate and sister, but Fred found himself thinking of her in a less than sibling manner. He knew it was wrong though; could lead to the destruction of one of the strongest bonds he'd ever had with anyone. It wouldn't just wreck things between her and him, but between all three of them. He couldn't risk that.
"Yes. Right. The whatever," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing to be worried about. The whatever meant nothing. You're my best friend, no whatever could ever ruin that."
He wasn't sure if he was happy or completely disappointed. "Okay. Good. Then you'll stop avoiding me then."
"I wasn't," she told him, her lips pursing as she raised her book to hide once more.
"So then why have you been paying more attention to George than me?" he asked, hating that he almost sounded as if he were whining.
"I pay you both equal attention," she replied, shrugging one shoulder.
"No. You've always paid a little more attention to me. Or... at least a different kind of attention," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "I'm the one you usually touch more; holding hands, hugging, laying on the couch together. I'm the one you have more inside jokes with and the one that you like to watch your Muggle telly programs with. I'm the one who rubs your feet and listens to your rants about House Elves." He just now realized his voice was raising with each thing he listed off and tried to pull back his show of worry and irritation.
"Fred," she said, her voice softer than it had been. Placing her book to the side, she moved across the space between the couches, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands into hers. "You'll always be the one that I cuddle up to at night and talk to until three in the morning. You'll always be the one who knows exactly what I'm talking about when I bring up what's happened on the latest episode of whatever program we watched the night before. You're always going to be the one who I thoroughly appreciate for always knowing the perfect moment to rub my feet or kiss my forehead."
She sighed, her fingers rubbing against his hands. "George is my best mate too, and he gets attention for things that you don't. I'll admit that I've been avoiding you, but that's only because..." She bit her lip and his eyes dropped to stare at the mouth that had openly fascinated him for longer than he cared to admit. "Because I was confused by the... whatever that happened that day. I-- I was worried that I'd started feeling something and you hadn't and you were just... you were just acting like it never happened. It... It seemed to be a lot more to me than it did to you and so I was concerned that my feelings had changed. I-- I didn't want to lose you and so I pushed you away for a little while. I know that doesn't make sense..."
She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly. "I just wanted to be sure that whatever I felt for you was purely platonic and by paying more attention to George, I thought I'd prove that I wouldn't miss those little touches or the way you hold me when we fall asleep together. I wanted to believe that I could cut that out of our relationship and we'd still be okay. We'd still be Fred and Hermione; best mates. I..." She trailed off, but the way her teeth dug into her lip once more told him that she really know what else to say.
"So... you were just going to quit me?" he asked, his expression tightening with hurt. She looked up at him, her eyes showing her confusion. "That's what we are. We're little touches and cuddling and random kisses to the forehead or cheek. We're falling asleep together after heated discussions about anything we could possibly think of, finding ourselves waking up wrapped around each other as if it comes naturally. We're looking at each other and knowing what the other's thinking or about to say or feeling. We're... we're everything you thought you could just cut out and make us some platonic thing," he ranted loudly.
"We're supposed to be platonic!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, her hands tightening around his. "We're supposed to be like me and George, or you and George. But we're not! Are we? We're somewhere between friends and more. It's like we're unwilling to admit to being more, but we don't want to just be friends. And I don't know when it happened or even how but it's what we are and I don't know how to stop it!" she told him, her face flushing and her breathing picking up.
"Well why do we have to? Why do we have to be like you and George? I'm not George! I'm Fred! And I don't want to be him. I want to have what we have. I like what we have! I like... I like being able to touch you and feel your skin warm against mine. I like knowing that I can kiss you, all over your face, and it's the most natural thing ever. I like waking up with you in my arms or falling asleep with you mumbling about House Elves against my chest. I like how you look in my Beater's jersey and I like how my pillows smell like you hours after you're gone. I don't... I don't want that to change. I want... If anything I want more," he admitted, his voice nearly shouting.
"Fred..." she breathed, staring up at him. "I..." She shook her head, biting her lip. "If it doesn't work out, I'll lose you."
"You'll never lose me," he told her, his chest clenching at the mere possibility.
"I... I can't risk that. I can't rely on hopes and wants. Reality is that you and I... we're best mates. You're the closest person to me. Sometimes, even closer than George." She paused, her eyes turning off, the firelight enhancing the shimmer of tears coating the dark brown gaze. "Far closer than Harry and Ron were, despite all that we'd gone through," she said, her voice a mere whisper, choked with emotion. "I want to know that ten years from now, you'll still be there; laughing and smiling with me, hugging me, being that person in my life that means everything. I won't risk that for... whatever." Shaking her head, she sniffled slightly, her hand coming away from his to wipe at her face quickly. "You're going to find someone else and we're going to laugh at this one day. At your wedding, when you've found your Molly, and I've found my Arthur, we'll hug and laugh about how we thought we were each other's forever," she told him, nodding decisively.
He paused, staring at her, watching as the fire flickered over her face, making the tear that escaped down her cheek shimmer. Stubbornly, he said, his voice a choked whisper, "What if we're meant to be more than this? What if you're supposed to be my forever? Maybe you're my Molly and I'm your Arthur..."
Turning, she looked up at him, her mouth quivering. "If it's meant to be, it will."
Swallowing his protests, he nodded jerkily. He reached his hands out, cupping her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that escaped as her eyes fell shut. Her hands rose, wrapping around his wrists, holding on tightly, as if afraid he'd let go and never return. Leaning forward, he pressed a lingering kiss against her forehead, feeling her move into it. When he pulled back, she laid her head down in his lap and his fingers absently stroked her dark curls. Her tears fell silently, soaking through his pants. As the fire burned away and time continued to tick past, he fell into thoughts of a future wedding, as she'd promised he'd have one day. But instead of her sitting in the crowd, smiling him on, she was standing before him, dressed in white. He knew in that moment, without a doubt, that she was his Molly.
-o-o-o-o-o-
A Week Later
(circa Nearly Five Months A.H.R)
George sat comfortably next to Alicia in a pub he, Fred, and Hermione frequented on weekends. The food was good, the music just loud enough to feel at ease, the atmosphere friendly and humor-inducing, it was an all around great pub. Across from them, Hermione and Fred were next to each other, sharing a menu. Despite the fact that they'd shared one side of a booth countless times and read the menu over each others shoulders just as often, there was unease to them that hadn't previously been there. Where natural and fluid movements like pushing Hermione's hair to one side so Fred could rest his chin on her shoulder while he read were, in the past, just something they did without thinking, now they were sneaking looks at each cautiously. They were sitting far too apart for people who not only lived together but were best mates to the deepest sense of the words. Hermione was holding the menu so far to the side that George was surprised she could make out the messy scrawl. But neither of them moved closer and they made sure not to act as if they thought their behavior odd. George stifled the urge to ask them what the rot was wrong with them.
Alicia quickly turned his attention her way, sparking up a conversation, "So I scored tickets to the Falcons game next weekend." Smiling at him coyly, she lifted her hand, brushing his fringe off his forehead. "I could be persuaded to let you come."
The feel of her touch against his skin had something in his stomach squirming. He wasn't new to the world of flirting and charming a woman but when he was with Alicia there were moments where he felt like a fourteen year old boy with a stutter. "Oh?" he asked, reaching out and holding her chin between his thumb and index finger. "I can be very persuasive," he said, his voice lowering and his eyes falling to her curved pink lips, as her tongue darted out to trail across in a beckoning manner.
"It's a very big game. Expensive tickets. Great seats," she told him, inching forward. "Might take drastic measures to get yourself one." Her eyes glinted mischievously.
"I'm willing to take the risk," he assured, his mouth just a hairs breath away.
Hearing the snickering of his two best friends broke their reverie and they turned, letting out strangled noises of embarrassment.
Turning to Fred, Hermione stared up at him with an embellished expression of adoration. "Oh George, you sexy beast you," she said, her voice low and seductive. "I can't resist your raw manliness."
"Alicia, my sweet," Fred breathed, his hand reaching out to cup Hermione's cheek. "Kiss me before my brother and best mate retch over the table at this indecent display of corny flirting."
Hermione leaned up, her knees bracing her as she wrapped her arms around Fred's neck, her hair flying around dramatically. "Only if you come to the game with me. I couldn't bear going with another."
Fred's fingers ghosted over Hermione's cheek and for a moment, George was sure he something else in his twin's eyes and a shake to Fred's hand. "Fine," he said, his voice raspy. "But we must avoid all ten year olds," he added, his voice much clearer.
George and Alicia rolled their eyes. "Yes, you're tremendously funny," he muttered.
Hermione laughed, leaning into Fred as she continued to stand on her knees, her head turned slightly, temple against Fred's. Her smile was wide and George was happy to see them so comfortable with each other again. Fred's arms sat easily around Hermione's waist, one of his hands drawing lazy circles over the small of her back.
"I dunno. I think Fred got you," Alicia said, her eyes glittering with amusement.
Fred laughed, but a moment later his expression fell as he turned his eyes to the side, spotting how close Hermione was. He cleared his throat, his hands suddenly stopping their ministrations. As if she realized too, Hermione lifted her head away from his. George feared for a moment that things would return to being stifled and uncomfortable, but then they paused, their eyes connecting, mouths just inches from each other. Fred's hands were cupping Hermione's sides, just over her ribs while Hermione's arms hung loosely between them, hands still clasping his shoulders. Their noses brushed and that flicker of emotion George had seen earlier passed once more across Fred's eyes.
Unfortunately, the waitress stopped by to ask what they wanted to eat and the moment was broken between the two. Hermione and Fred separated, taking their seats once more, but George was happy to see that the space that had previously occupied a great deal of the booth between them was now forgotten. They were back to sitting so close Fred could move his head and inch to the left and it'd be leaning against Hermione's. George smiled. It wouldn't be long now. They couldn't deny it forever.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Early December
George pushed open the bedroom door without knocking. "Hey Hermione? Have you seen my blue-- OH! Sorry!"
Fred jumped back from Hermione, his chest heaving from lack of air. Pink faced, Hermione was in the same state, her hair a little more messy from Fred's hands slipping through it and her lips puffy from the mutual assault they'd had on each others mouths. She fiddled with the end of her shirt, which sat crookedly, as she stared at George with wide eyes.
He wasn't exactly surprised, he'd noticed in recent weeks that they'd seemed to notice more how physical they were. At times, they even seemed skittish because they'd found themselves in positions that didn't exactly scream friendship. She'd been sleeping in his room less and Fred had forced himself to stop touching her as often as he had. He'd reach out to her but then extract his hand quickly, as if burned. George figured it was just going to build up, their mutual attraction, before it finally just exploded and they found themselves doing exactly what he'd walked in on.
Neither of them had talked to him about what was going on, but he figured something had to have happened; something eye-opening. The longing looks Fred was throwing Hermione's way were becoming almost sad and George was nearly at the breaking point. He'd wanted to yell at them countless times for pretending there was nothing going on, when it was so obvious that they wanted something more. In his head, he was shouting "FINALLY!" But judging by the shocked and concerned expression Hermione was sporting on her blushing face, he figured he could be a little less enthusiastic.
"Your blue shirt? Is that what you wanted? It's in Fred's closet. He wears it more than you do, I thought it was smarter." She shifted on her feet, her mouth suddenly working a mile a minute. "Going out with Alicia again? That's, what, the third time this week? You two really hit it off! Didn't I tell you all you had to do was relax? Look how well that worked out. You better go get that shirt, you're supposed to be at the restaurant soon. Are you picking her up or meeting her there?" she rambled, moving across the room to put the books sitting on her dresser back into her book shelves.
"So you two finally pulled your heads out of your arses, I see," George stated smugly, his brows high and his mouth curled with a smile.
Fred stared at his brother in confusion; he'd been watching Hermione avidly, enjoying her flustered act and feeling quite proud of her disarrayed appearance.
"What? What d'you mean?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed.
"Oh please! You've been dancing around this thing between you two for months!" George told them, throwing his arms up and moving to sit comfortably on her bed.
"So, er, you're not mad?" she asked, her expression worried and wringing her heads distraughtly.
"'Course not. I was getting tired of you two pretending you didn't like each other. It was so obvious, even Charlie said you two should just give it up and snog already," he told them, shrugging it off. His expression changed to one of confusion, however. "Why would I be mad?"
"Well, because we're all friends. I mean, you two are brothers, but we're all friends and I wasn't sure if you'd be uncomfortable with us, er..." She trailed off, shifting on her feet and looking away nervously.
Sighing, George sat forward, looking back and forth from Fred, who was now leaning against Hermione's dresser, and Hermione, who was fiddling with her hands only a foot away from him. George didn't fail to notice that they were both unconsciously leaning toward each other. "You like each other, yeah?" They nodded slowly, eyes venturing to one another. "Right, and this was your first attempt at anything, before I walked in on it?" With reddening faces, they nodded again. "Okay, so I have no problem at all. I know how you feel about each other. And if it doesn't work out, which I don't think is a problem we need to worry about, then we'll deal with it when it happens." He paused, his mouth turning with a frown. "Just... put a warning up so I won't walk in on anything... again," he said, before smirking amusedly.
"Like a sock on the door," Fred suggested, standing forward with a bright grin.
"Yeah, or you could put to use that sign Lee bought you. That 'Don't come a knockin', my bed's a rockin'' sign!" George suggested, looking excited.
Eyes lit up, Fred nodded. "Or--"
"Or we could just assume that a closed door means privacy is needed," Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I know we've never given much consideration to it in the past--" Her eyes thinned as she scowled.
"You had nothin' to be ashamed of, 'Mione. You looked very..." George made the 'curvy' motion with his hands, grinning, "... in those cute little knickers."
Glaring, Hermione huffed. "The next time you have Alicia over--"
"Understood!" he cut her off, his brows high. "More attention to closed doors, no problem."
"Good," Hermione said, tugging her shirt down and lifting her chin, trying to look proper despite the fact that she still looked thoroughly snogged.
"Don't you have a date to get to?" Fred asked his brother, his eyes settling on Hermione, a grin slowly appearing.
Hermione looked over at him, her brow lifting. "The mood's been ruined, Fred," she warned.
"I can fix it," he assured confidently, walking toward her.
"Well, I'm off," George said, standing up from the bed quickly and walking out of the room before he was witness to anymore of their passion. He grinned to himself, whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way to the fireplace. While patience wasn't one of his greatest attributes, he was glad he waited it out. It took awhile, but they finally figured it out and he was sure that it'd was destined to last. He'd never seen them look at anyone else like they had each other. Maybe Hermione would be his sister one day after all.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Mid-December
"George, have you put out the new stock yet?" Fred called out from the front desk, his eyes scanning over the Daily Prophet in his hand absently, frowning as he read yet another Potter and Weasley sighting somewhere in Italy. There were a few customers milling around, one just browsing and another two he was sure were up to mischief.
"Last night," his twin replied from the back room. "It's in the front window."
Lifting his head, Fred angled it up to see the display put together where George had said. He smiled approvingly. It was still fairly early in the morning and he was contemplating slipping into Hermione's room and waking her up with breakfast. He'd have to buy it from the shop down the road seeing as he was pitiful at cooking, but she'd appreciate the thought. It was her day off from training and she'd found a great pleasure for sleeping in ever since moving in with the twins.
Leaning back in his seat, he read the article somebody had written about Harry and Ron being seen at a bistro in Italy. Despite the fact that he was sure it wasn't true, he couldn't help but find himself naturally inclined to seeing if there was any proof his brother and friend were still out there. He'd written post asking them to at least send word that they were okay and thriving but never received a reply. It was beginning to grate on his nerves and his previous worry about them was becoming more anger than concern. They'd been away for what felt like forever, even if it was only six or so months. He wasn't sure of the exact amount of time that passed, but he knew it was longer than he'd ever expected them to be gone.
As his dour thoughts threatened to take over his mood, he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist and a chin land on his shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint, dear, but I'm a taken bloke," he said cheekily.
"Sure I can't convince you?" a soft, sleepy voice replied. A hand rubbed his chest slowly, somehow forcing all the tension and anger out of his body entirely. One of his hands fell from the newspaper to cover hers against him, their fingers threading together. There was something unexpected and yet fitting between them. She would always be his best mate and knew him better than anybody except George. Perhaps as well as George, aside from a few twinly attributes that simply couldn't be figured out.
Tugging on her hand, Fred waited for her to walk around him to lean into his embrace. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a loose sweater, but somehow she looked inexplicably beautiful. Her eyes were half-lidded with tiredness and her hair was thrown up in a messy pony tail, but she didn't fiddle over her appearance at all. She slid between his legs as he sat perched on a stool, and loosely wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. He could feel her curls tickling the underside of his jaw and smiled contently to himself as he propped his head on hers. His arms fell around her body, the soft texture of her sweater smooth against his palms. She smelled faintly of flowers and he wondered briefly over how easily they slipped into couplehood from their formerly innocent friendship.
"Not sure my girlfriend would approve of this," he murmured against her hair, half-smiling as she chuckled against his chest.
"Should I be worried?" she asked, her hands sliding up and down his back soothingly.
"Very. She's a tough bird. Smartest witch of her age, on her way to becoming a top Auror, got a mean temper on her," he replied, smirking.
"I dunno. I think I could take her," she replied with a sigh.
He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. "I have no idea who I'm supposed to be rooting for."
Laughing, Hermione shook her head, her nose nuzzling his neck. "The duel would be quite a sight," she told him, pulling back slightly and looking up at him.
Grinning, he tried to imagine her dueling herself and found himself shaking his head at the absurdity.
Apparently having thought the same thing, she snorted. "Guess we'll just have to share you then." Leaning in, she smoothed her mouth over his. Slanted lips, brushing noses, and hands holding each other a little closer, he melted against her. His eyes fell shut, body automatically moving forward and tongue searching out hers, he felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach and an oddly pleasant tightness in his chest. One of her hands ran over the side of his hair, fingers brushing against his skin, sending a shiver down his back. Their mouths broke away for air but she leaned in and placed short kisses against his mouth a few times before moving to lean her head on his shoulder.
"I can live with that," he said, his mouth curving with a smile as he felt her laughter.
-o-o-o-o-o-
A Few Days Later
(A Weasley Dinner)
Hermione frowned, fiddling with her dress as she stood in the kitchen, waiting for Fred to finish getting ready after his shower. "George, are you sure she doesn't--"
"Need you to bring anything? Yes. No casseroles! You don't even have time anymore," he replied, swinging an arm around her shoulders. "Really, 'Mione, my mum makes enough to feed three families. She's not going to be mad that you didn't bring your customary casserole. Charlie might, but he'll survive," he assured, rubbing her arm.
"Hermione?" Fred's voice called from the bedroom.
"Third drawer, left side," she shouted to him absently, looking through the fridge, a finger tapping her chin. "I could bring the salad from last night. Since neither of you tried it."
Tisking, George shook his head. "'Mione, dearest, leaves are meant for--"
"Bugs. And while you bug me entirely, that's not the case here," she finished, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, that was one of your lamer jokes."
"You said it," he counteracted, smiling as he moved to sit atop the counter.
Fred appeared from the bedroom, smiling and with freshly dripping hair. "Ready. 'Mione, you're not bringing that salad, are you?" he asked, scrunching up his nose.
"I'll have you both know, Fleur loves my salads," she told them, her hands finding her hips.
"We know," they replied moving toward her. George took her arm and wrapped it around his while Fred took her hand, lacing their fingers. "We're very disappointed in your lack of preparation, Miss. Granger. This is going down on your record!"
"It's not my fault!" she cried out, pouting. "I was going to make a casserole last night," she assured, barely paying attention as they apparated her straight into the living room of the Burrow. "But somebody distracted me," she finished, frowning at Fred, who was grinning smugly. They walked toward the kitchen, their feet unknowingly in sync.
Winking down at her, he said, "I'm very talented that way." Leaning forward, he pressed a lingering but much too short kiss to her lips.
Snorting, George opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a shrill cry. Molly suddenly came forward, sobbing and holding her arms out.
"I told you she'd be upset I hadn't brought the casserole," Hermione said, sighing huffily.
"Not sure that's it," Fred said, lifting a brow at his mother in confusion.
"And if it is, you can always blame Fred," George told her happily.
"Really don't think she'll want to hear that excuse," Hermione said, her cheeks flaming a bright pink.
"I'm suddenly glad I stayed the night at Alicia's," George muttered before unclasping his arm from Hermione's and moving to pat his mother's shoulder. "Er, you all right mum?" She blubbered something incoherent and George looked back at Hermione and his twin. "I tried. Your turn."
"Molly?" Hermione asked, stepping closer. "I was going to make a casserole. I really was!" she told her worriedly. She opened her mouth to add more but Molly suddenly threw her arms around her and squeezed her tightly. "C-Can't b-breathe," she mustered.
"Mum?" Fred said, trying to pry her arms off his girlfriend. Laughing, George tried to help but to no avail. "Er? Anybody else wanna give us a hand?" Fred asked, looking into the kitchen to see his brothers exchanging money over something.
"She just realized you were dating," Charlie called out in explanation. "And thanks. You just won me five galleons!"
"Huh, we were gonna tell her at dinner," Fred said shrugging.
"S-still can't b-breath," Hermione sputtered, her face turning purple.
"Mum! Dinner is burning!" Bill shouted, smiling as his mother leapt back, arms leaving Hermione to stumble. Fred caught her as she fell, gasping for air.
Molly got three steps toward the oven before she stopped, "William Weasley, I already took dinner out of the oven," she said, frowning at her eldest son.
"Just trying to save my future sister-in-law before you smothered her," he replied, shrugging easily.
Molly's good mood reappeared as she turned to look at Hermione and Fred, who were talking in low tones while he rubbed her back soothingly and she leaned her head against his chest, inhaling deeply. "Oh! I had no idea! When did this start then? I thought you were just friends? Isn't it a little early for you to be living together?" She tapped her foot, her mouth twisting in uncertainty. "Maybe Hermione should move back in here... The Burrow has been quite empty lately."
"No!" Fred interrupted loudly. Realizing he'd reacted quite vehemently, he cleared his throat. "The living arrangements are fine. Good. Not a problem," he said, rubbing the back of his reddening neck.
Chortling with laughter, his brothers called out, "And convenient!"
Fred rolled his eyes, doing nothing to hide his grin.
"We've only been together a few weeks," Hermione said, standing up a little straighter and looking uncertainly at a beaming Molly.
"You wouldn't've known it if you'd seen their first kiss," George piped up, smirking.
His brothers burst into laughter once more while Fred nodded agreeably.
Glaring, Hermione shoved George. "Just you wait until she hears about Alicia," she muttered warningly.
"Who's Alicia?" Molly asked, obviously overhearing.
Gulping, George frowned at Hermione. "Er... Well..."
"Didn't George tell you?" Hermione asked, the picture of innocence.
"You wait until we get home," George said to her, shaking his head, but secretly proud of how well she played him.
"Eh, what's this then? You two finally get together?" Arthur asked as he walked into the kitchen, motioning to Hermione and Fred who were leaning close together, hands clasped once more.
"Yup," Fred said, nodding and looking over Hermione's head to see the food on the table. "Who brought the salad?" he wondered.
"Zat waz me!" Fleur exclaimed, smiling. "You must try eet, 'ermione. Beel won't touch eet!" she said, frowning.
"It looks delicious," Hermione said graciously.
"If you're a bug," the twins chorused.
Sighing, Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Eh? Where's Hermione's casserole?" Charlie called out, sounding rather annoyed.
A/N Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. A little more serious... Sorry there hasn't been an update on my others. I'm only putting up previously written chapters as I'm still working out some personal problems. Including moving out of my apartment (ex-best friend is moving in with boyfriend!), my grandma had surgery last night and we're still not sure how it went (was longer than expected and the nurses aren't spilling why), and a bunch of crap with my dad. Sorry! I'll try to get something out soon!
Thanks for reading! Please review, it's greatly appreciated!
Much Love,
-Amanda