Hermione woke up early, like normal, even though it was a Sunday. Ron and Harry were constantly amazed; they didn't believe that somebody would actually want to get up when sleep could be had. But I like starting the day when the day actually starts, Hermione thought as she pulled on a t-shirt and jeans. Ron and Harry always waste half the day sleeping. She stretched, leaning down to touch her toes before leaving Bill and Charlie's old room - now hers - in favor of the kitchen.

It had become habit to cook breakfast for the rest of the Weasleys as well as herself; she was always the first one awake on Sunday mornings. Humming lightly, Hermione reached into the cooling shelf to retrieve a carton of eggs, then searched the other cupboards for a pan and whisk. She could, of course, cook magically, but Hermione liked preparing food by hand; it was comforting. After the eggs were done, she started on toast.

At eight o'clock sharp, Mr. Weasley made his way downstairs, clad in pajamas and slippers.

"Morning, Hermione," he said, before loading his plate.

Hermione smiled as she poured him a cup of orange juice. "Good morning."

Mrs. Weasley came downstairs not long after, dressed for the day. Soon the heads of the Weasley family and Hermione were all sitting at the end of the long table, eating breakfast in companionable silence. Hermione loved Sundays.

She was just thinking how nice it was that there was peace and quiet for a few hours when the loud crack of Apparition was heard upstairs, shortly followed by a slightly louder thump and a muffled yell.

Mr. Weasley ran a hand over his face. "I forgot how noisy the twins are at all hours of the day and night."

Mrs. Weasley kissed his cheek in consolation on her way to get some more juice. "At least they're awake. How Ginny, Ron, and Harry manage to sleep so long I'll never know."

"Oh, I don't think Harry and Ginny are necessarily sleeping," a voice muttered. Hermione snorted and turned to find George standing at the foot of the staircase, wearing the same clothes as the day before and sporting a bad case of bedhead.

"What's that, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said absently.

"Oh, nothing, Mum," George replied cheerfully, going to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Mrs. Weasley stood, clearing away her dishes, and George took her seat. "Make sure you save some breakfast for the others."

"I know, Mum. I will," George said through a mouthful of eggs. He rolled his eyes at Hermione, and she pretended not to notice.

"Well, I'm off," Mrs. Weasley said. "Does anyone need anything from Diagon Alley?"

Hermione, George, and Mr. Weasley shook their heads, and Mrs. Weasley Disapparated with a small pop.

Soon after, Mr. Weasley announced that he had better be going as well - he'd gotten an emergency call from work - and headed upstairs to get ready.

Hermione was just about to ask George where he'd been the night before, when more shouting and thumping could be heard. Hermione looked up at the ceiling in puzzlement, then at George. He seemed entirely focused on eating his breakfast.

Hermione looked over at the sound of someone hurriedly coming down the stairs to see a chuckling Mr. Weasley trying to put his cloak on as he walked. He stopped, glanced at George, and chuckled again before stepping into the living room. Not long after, Hermione heard the woosh that accompanied travel by floo powder.

No sooner had Mr. Weasley left, than someone else could be heard racing down the stairs. Hermione caught George's eye and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head, hastily stuffing the last bit of eggs into his mouth before grabbing his plate and practically running to the sink. Just as whoever was coming down the stairs reached the bottom, George Apparated away.

Hermione turned to see Fred, soaking wet, glowering at the place where his twin had been standing only moments before.

"He walked in right as I was about to finish fireproofing the workroom, and thought it would be funny to scare me," Fred said. "Now it's raining in our room and I bloody can't get it to stop."

Hermione hid her smile by taking a drink of orange juice. She waved her wand and Fred's clothes immediately became dry.

"Thanks," Fred said, reaching over and scooping up a piece of toast.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Nope. There's a few boxes of Portable Swamp 2.0 and Wet-Start Whizbangs that I have to rescue before my Impervius Charm wears down." Fred turned and sprinted up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

Hermione found herself absentmindedly staring at his retreating back, before she shook herself awake and followed him. She did not want to find out what a house full of swamp and fireworks was like; it had been bad enough at Hogwarts, and Hogwarts was huge.

Fred returned to his and George's room to find that quite a bit of swamp had already leaked out onto the floor. Panicking, he pulled out his wand.

"Lama Defluo Totalum!"

The swamp shrunk, but didn't disappear completely; him and George still hadn't quite figured out how to clean the new version up.

"Evanesco!"

The swamp didn't budge.

"Scourgify!"

Still nothing.

Already completely soaked, Fred cast extra Impervius Charms at the undamaged boxes of Whizbangs and Portable Swamp before turning his attention to the ceiling. If anything, the rain seemed to be falling harder; what had started out as a light shower was now a downpour. With my luck, it'll be lightning-ing soon, Fred thought.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Fred turned at the shrill incantation to find Hermione standing just outside the door, trying to avoid getting wet.

"Because I couldn't possibly have thought of that myself," he called out sarcastically. "If you're going to help, you might as well come inside." When Hermione seemed reluctant, Fred reached out and pulled her into the room. She stumbled a little, and he moved to catch her so she wouldn't faceplant into the swamp. The result was an awkward sort of hug; Hermione's arms were pinned to her sides and her face was smushed into Fred's shoulder. Fred could feel her heartbeat thrumming away through her shirt. Have I ever given Hermione a proper hug before?

The rumble of thunder brought Fred back to his senses, and he quickly let Hermione - now just as soaking wet as himself - go, righting her and patting her on the shoulder. She looked apprehensively at the ceiling as another, louder, peal of thunder was heard. Fred noticed that her once-loose t-shirt was now very...clingy...and decided that, yes, she looked much nicer without the corset.

The rain was now coming down so hard that the constant roar of it was making his ears hurt; the increasing volume of the thunder wasn't exactly helping, either.

"Fred!" Hermione yelled, pushing her sopping hair out of her eyes, "What kind of spell were you casting?"

"I was experimenting!" he bellowed back. "It was supposed to start raining in the workshop if something magically caught on fire and we couldn't extinguish it in time!"

Hermione looked at him as if he were crazy. "It was supposed to start what? Why didn't you just fireproof the walls or something?"

Fred couldn't think of a reason, so he stuck his tongue out. "It seemed like a good idea at the time!"

A rumble of thunder sounded right as Hermione started to speak, drowning out her words.

"What?" Fred yelled, "I can't hear you!"

Hermione leaned in so that her lips were brushing Fred's ear. "Did you ever think," she said, "Of how to get it to stop once the fire went out?"

Fred looked at her in confusion. Hermione stared pointedly back. Finally, realization dawned. Fred bent down slightly, putting his mouth next to Hermione's ear so he wouldn't have to yell. "The rain is supposed to stop when the fire goes out, but-"

Hermione looked up at him, a smile on her face. "But there isn't a fire! Right, then...Incendio!" she cried. Flames shot from her wand, quickly extinguished in the downpour. As soon as the flames disappeared, the rain stopped, leaving only the echo of a last clap of thunder.

Hermione turned slightly pink, suddenly all too aware without the distraction of rain and thunder of how close Fred was, of his shirt clinging to his chest and the heat of his body. She'd never been so close to this particular Weasley brother - or his twin, for that matter - for more than a second or two; he was always bouncing around, in and out the door, on the way to his next prank or running away from the repercussions of his most recent one.

And he'd certainly never touched her.

Fred laughed in delight when the rain stopped, pulling Hermione close and planting a solid kiss on her head. "You," he said, "Are bloody brilliant!"

In the split second where Fred's lips touched the top of her head, Hermione thought about the day before, when Fred had seen her in her underwear not once, but twice, and blushed deeper. She'd thought nothing of it at the time, except to have a laugh with Ginny, but now...

"What," said a third voice, "The bloody hell is going on?"

Fred and Hermione stopped their celebrations to find Ron standing just outside the doorway. It was obvious he'd just gotten up; his hair was in disarray, his pajamas wrinkled. He did not look happy.

"I can ignore loud noises, and I can ignore yelling, but how am I supposed to sleep with a bloody thunderstorm inside the house? Merlin's pants, could ya keep it down a little?"

"That's two 'bloodies,'" Fred whispered in Hermione's ear. "I'm betting there's at least three more coming."

Hermione unobtrusively stepped on Fred's foot to get him to shut up. An angry Ron in the morning meant an angry Ron all day, and she didn't want to deal with that. "Sorry, Ron," she said. It was just a malfunctioning spell. Go back to sleep."

"You bloody well bet I will." Ron turned and trudged tiredly up the stairs.

"You know," Hermione said, turning to Fred, "That was only three times he used the word 'bloody,' not five."

Fred had just opened his mouth to respond when a strangled yell echoed down the stairs, followed by Ron's voice.

"BLOODY HELL!"

Fred smirked. "That's four. And I'm guessing that dear ickle Ronniekins caught Harry leaving Ginny's room, so there'll be more."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Fred and began drying off the walls, ceiling, and floor. Fred silently followed suit as the pair listened to the argument of epic proportions that was unfolding above them.

"...and I am bloody well over seventeen, Ronald!"

"You. Are. My. Baby. Sister! I can't let you just go sleeping around with some bloke-"

"That 'bloke' is Harry Potter, your best friend!"

"Even if he is bloody Harry Potter, I don't care! You just wait until Mum finds out about this..."

The argument deteriorated into scuffling noises and the sound of spells, ending when Ginny finally cast a Bat Bogey Hex before slamming the door to her room, leaving Ron to deal with the effects of the curse by himself. Fred and Hermione heard muffled footsteps approaching Ginny's door.

"Erm..Ron...D'you want help with that?"

Harry cast a muffled counterspell and Ron, now free of attacking bogies, began to rant at his best friend.

"Well," Fred said, "That was five coherent 'bloodies,' and it sounds like Harry is getting a lot more. I do believe that I have won the bet."

Hermione looked up from the floor, where she was trying - and failing - to clean up the swamp. "You what? But I didn't bet you anything!"

Fred smirked. "So? That just means that I get to choose the form of payment."

"Fine," Hermione said. Fred was surprised; he'd expected her to protest. "How much do I owe you? A few sickles? A galleon?"

"Oh no no, Miss Granger. That's boring. No, you owe me a dare."

"A what?"

"A dare. And you have to do it."

Hermione grumbled to herself, but nodded. Stupid Fred Weasley with his stupid warm body and stupid charm. I am definitely going to regret this.

Lunch was a quiet affair, with Ron brooding, Harry and Ginny making faces at him over their sandwiches, Fred still trying to clean up the swamp, and Hermione trying to figure out exactly what Fred Weasley might dare her to do. She was not liking the options her mind came up with.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to take note of the lack of lunchtime conversation, but didn't say anything. She'd come home to find Ron sitting on the stairs in between Hermione and Ginny's rooms, a fresh batch of Bogeys attacking his face and a Silencing Charm cast on him for good measure. After the curse and the charm had been reversed, Ron had stormed outside, spending the morning practicing his Wronski Feint.

Ginny had just collapsed into a fit of giggles at Harry's impression of Ron's face when a loud crack came from the living room. George strode into the kitchen, wearing the magenta robes of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes staff.

"Afternoon, Mum!" he called, as he rushed upstairs. A few minutes later he came back down in normal clothes. Fred, now wearing the work robes, followed him.

"I'm off, everyone!" Fred called cheerily. "I'll see you all at dinner. Have fun cleaning up the swamp, George!"

"What?" George called, as Fred Disapparated. "What swamp? Oi!" But Fred was already gone. George turned to the occupants of the table.

"What swamp?" he asked.

Hermione, Ginny, and Harry put on innocent expressions and shrugged their shoulders. They had spent the morning trying to get rid of the swamp, but nothing seemed to work.

George turned to Ron, who was single-mindedly eating his second sandwich.

"Ron," George said, in a too-nice voice, "Do you know what swamp my dearest darling brother was talking about?"

Ron looked up, bewildered. "Well that's the one in your room, innit?"

George paled slightly. "In our...room?"

Ron nodded, taking another bite.

George turned and ran up the stairs. They could hear his frustrated yell at the state of the twins' room from the kitchen.