Fred grunted as he set down the last of the boxes just inside the door of his and George's makeshift workshop. They'd spent the afternoon carting armfuls upon armfuls of prototypes and testing materials, all while avoiding the disapproving stare of their mother. Now that everything was finally in its place, it looked like the workshop needed to be expanded again. Joy.

George popped his head through the door. "Freddie! Mum says it's time for dinner!"

"I'll be down in a sec."

Fred scrubbed his hands over his eyes as his twin's footsteps faded away. Merlin, I'm tired. What I really need after dinner is a nice, long-

"Fred? Mrs. Weasley says it's time for dinner." Harry's head poked its way through the doorway. "Woah, that's a lot of boxes. Do you need any help?"

"No, Harry, I'm fine. I'll be down soon."

"Ok!"

Harry certainly seemed chipper, considering the fact that Ron was still threatening to tell his mother about Harry's nightly forays into Ginny's room. But, Fred supposed, with Harry and Ginny both being of age, there wasn't much his mother could do except give them a brief but embarrassing talking-to.

"Fred?" It was a female voice this time. "Mrs. Weasley just called everyone down for-"

"I know, Hermione."

"Oh."

Fred sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little tired, is all."

Hermione took a few steps into the room, and Fred felt a tentative, soothing hand on his shoulder. "I understand," Hermione said. "But I know something that might cheer you up..."

"And what, exactly, might that be?"

Hermione tugged at Fred's arm. "Well why don't you come downstairs, silly, and find out for yourself!"

"The things I do for you," Fred grumbled good-naturedly, slinging his arm over her shoulders. He would have liked to have kept it there, but the stairs - and the doorway - seemed to only be made for one and a quarter of a person. Pity, really.

Hermione felt a little sad when Fred withdrew his arm after only a few moments. Why did he put it there? Why did he take it off? Does he not want anyone else to see? Stop worrying so much, Hermione, she chided herself. It doesn't matter.

"Are you coming?" Fred asked, and Hermione realized that she'd stopped walking, lost in thought. She felt her redden slightly as she joined Fred, following him down to the kitchen.

"Fred!" a deep voice called as the pair came into view, "Hermione!"

"Charlie!" Fred ran around the table to greet his older brother. Charlie stood, grasping Fred's hand before pulling him into a hug. "How're the dragons?"

"Dangerous as ever. I've got some nice, shiny new scars," Charlie said, winking at Hermione. For the second time that night, Hermione felt her face heat up. She turned to hide her blush, sitting next to Ginny as Charlie lifted his sleeve to display yet another impressive burn.

"This is actually why I'm visiting tonight," he said, gesturing at the shiny strip of flesh. "I left my elbow-length gloves in my old room. I bought new ones to replace them, but, well, this happened." Charlie sat down across from Hermione. "Sorry to be intruding into your bedroom," he said with another wink.

"It's fine," Hermione said in a small voice. She'd never quite gotten used to Charlie; he was an outright ladies-man, attractive despite his various burns. His habit of flirting with her had rather gotten in the way of their having a decent conversation in years past.

Fred took the chair on Hermione's other side, and Mrs. Weasley began passing around the potatoes. A festive spirit was in the air as the family chattered, noisier and more boisterous than usual with the addition of children who had long since moved out of the house. Soon dinner was over, dessert had been served, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed, and the rest were all sitting around the table, nursing half-empty glasses of butterbeer or mulled mead.

"I remember," Charlie said, "That when the twins were not even four years old they set off their first explosion." He sighed. "Ahhhh, those were the good 'ole days."

Ginny snorted; she'd heard the story many times before.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

George set his glass of mead down with a thunk. "Well," he said, slurring slightly, "Me an' Fred were in the garden, ya know, and Dad was in his shed."

"It was a Thursday," Charlie interjected. George nodded his head seriously.

"Right. Right you are. Thursday. But anywhos, Fred and I - or is it Fred an' me? Or me an' Fred? - oh, well, we wanted to see what dear 'ole Dad was up to. So we go into the shed, right, an' there's Dad, sitting on his workbench, fiddling with a - with a watchukullum - a lighting bulb. The kind that runs on eckletricksity." He paused and looked around as if making sure everyone understood.

"Right. Well we watched and watched and Dad lit the lighting bulbs up with magic. It was like a lumos in a glass jar. Like fireflies! Yeah, like fireflies. So Fred an' I, we sneak back out into the garden, pretend to watch old Charlie here-" George patted Charlie on the shoulder - "play Quidditch with Bill an' Percy. Only we were waiting, see, waiting for Dad to leave the shed." George stopped again, and everyone nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Right. So Dad leaves the shed, doesn't lock it up, of course, so Dad leaves the shed unlocked, and me an' Fred tippity-toe inside. We get to the lighting bulbs, but of course they aren't glowing, 'cuz they haven't got no magic in them. So we decide to make them glow.

"I grab one and Fred grabs another, an' we both grab each other's hands. Then we sit on th' floor, holding hands right close like, an' we concentrate. Hard. An' we concentrate and concentrate and concentrate an' it feels like bloody hours, but then there's a flicker of light. An' we get all excited, ya know, 'cuz it's magic, we're doing magic, an' then all of a sudden BOOM!" George slammed his hands on the table, making everyone jump, "Our lighting bulbs blow up. Sent Mum into a right state, mind."

Ron, started laughing, then George joined in, and soon both brothers were laughing so hard they could barely breathe, leaning together to stay upright. Finally they stopped, collapsing in a tangle of limbs on the floor.

"Ya know," Ron said seriously, trying and nearly failing to help George to his feet, "I reckon Dad's still got some of those lighting bulb thingies." He and George stared at each other for a moment before turning as one and going out the back door into the garden.

Fred tsk'd. "They never could hold their liquor," he said to no one in particular. Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Charlie all nodded their heads in agreement.

After a beat of silence Charlie stretched, reaching his hands behind his head before standing swiftly. "Well," he said, emptying his half-glass of mead into the sink, "It's getting late. I guess I'll be getting my gloves and going." He gave Fred and Ginny hugs, then shook Harry's hand. "Hermione," he said with a wink, "always a pleasure."

As they watched Charlie climb the stairs, Fred leaned in to whisper in Hermione's ear. "I know what your dare is."

Hermione cringed a little inside, all of the possibilities swirling through her head. "And what might that be?" she whispered back.

"Why, it's simple. You're going to go seduce Charlie."

"I'm WHAT?" Hermione screeched. Ginny and Harry looked up from their conversation, confused, before turning back to each other. "I'm what?" Hermione repeated, softer.

Fred was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You heard me. You have ten minutes to seduce Charlie." He gave her a little shove. "Go on. I'll be up when your time's run out, and I've already started counting."

I did decide to play his game, Hermione thought as she slowly stood. Well, why not? This could be interesting. And with a smile and a wink at Fred, she headed upstairs.

Hermione paused outside the door to her room; she could hear Charlie humming to himself inside. For a moment she thought about giving up, not embarrassing herself, and going back downstairs. However, the warm buzz of butterbeer bolstered her spirits. Besides, she'd never hear the end of it from Fred if she didn't do it. Hermione took a deep breath, and stepped into the room.

Charlie was standing on his toes, rummaging around the top shelf of the closet, the shelf where everything he and Bill had left behind was stored. All of his muscles were straining to hold the pose, and Hermione could see each and every one of them through the tight-fitting shirt and pants he wore. He does have a rather nice body...

"Charlie?" she said softly.

Charlie stopped humming and turned around, a pair of black gloves in his hand. "What's up, Hermione?"

"I've been meaning to...talk to you about something."

Charlie smiled. "This wouldn't be about the case for dragon rights, now, would it? Henshaw has already been down to the reserve to see that-"

"No," Hermione interrupted, taking a step closer, "It isn't that. It's...not work related." Another step closer.

"Oh?" Charlie asked, his initial look of confusion melting into something...else...as Hermione took yet another step.

"Mmhm," she nodded, running her hands up and down his arms. She could smell his cologne now, spicy and foreign, so unlike Fred's.

Charlie's arms slowly circled Hermione's waist, drawing her closer. "And what might that be?" he asked, his mouth inches away from her own.

Hermione curled a hand around the nape of Charlie's neck, pulling his head down until his lips met her own. He didn't pull away; he actually kissed her back, holding her flush against him. It had been awhile since Hermione had been kissed - the last time had been Ron at the Battle of Hogwarts - and she was quite enjoying it. Or rather, she was trying to. While she wound her arms around Charlie's neck and opened her mouth to grant his tongue access, her mind would not stop comparing Charlie to Fred.

Charlie was shorter, more muscular. He was closer to Hermione's height, but she found herself wishing for someone taller, for the scent of peppermint, for a certain pair of arms, for a sharp-witted tongue...

But Charlie was doing something sinfully delicious with his tongue, and in a minute Hermione was gone. All she could feel were Charlie's lips against hers, the heat of his chest, the feel of his hands pressing into the small of her back, one playing with the hem of her shirt. She moaned, and felt him smile in response.

Charlie's lips ghosted along Hermione's jaw and she felt herself automatically tilt her head back. Merlin, that feels good. His lips had just touched her neck, when the bedroom door opened.

"Well what have we here?"

Hermione froze.

"Fred," Charlie hissed, "I'm sort of in the middle of something."

Hermione realized exactly how they were standing, and quickly took a step back. Dare or not, it was embarrassing. She turned to face Fred and saw a shadow pass over his face before he grinned and winked.

"Carry on" he said, before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

As Fred left, Hermione felt the overwhelming need to apologize.

Fred shut Hermione's door - maybe a little too hard - and trudged back down the stairs. He'd known what Hermione was doing up there, had expected to walk in on her and Charlie doing...things...and yet...And yet the moment I saw them together I felt like I couldn't breathe, he thought. Wonderful. And she's probably all enamored with him now too, probably won't be able to keep her hands off of him. Their wedding will probably be the next one I attend and it'll be all. My. Bloody. Fault! Fred jerked open the door to his room and flopped onto his bed, punching the pillow a couple of times for good measure.

I dare you to seduce Charlie, my ass. I didn't expect her to go that far! Merlin, the way she looked, eyes closed and head thrown back...I want to be the one to do that. It should be me. Not him.

Fred closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, thoughts of chestnut-colored hair and soft skin floating through his head.

Hermione opened her eyes as her alarm blared. It was just too early; for the first time in years, she wanted to go back to sleep. However, when she recalled the events of the night before, she found she was as awake as she could be.

"Bloody stupid Fred with his bloody stupid dares," she mumbled as she got out of bed.

After Fred's intrusion the night before, Hermione had spent nearly an hour convincing Charlie to go home. It hadn't helped that he kept interrupting her with a kiss, or drawing her close, or tucking her hair behind her ear. She'd finally managed to send him off around two in the morning, and even then only after she'd agreed to visit sometime.

This is going to turn into a bloody mess, Hermione thought as she stepped into the shower. I really, really, hope that Charlie isn't looking for a serious relationship.

Hermione walked into the kitchen to find rose petals scattered everywhere, and for a wild minute she thought that Charlie hadn't actually gone back to Romania. That is, she thought that until a very frazzled Harry all but tackled her, dragging her into the living room.

"Harry? What's going on?"

Harry tried to straighten his robes - his very nice-looking dress robes, Hermione noted curiously - but only succeeded in pulling them further askew. His hair looked even messier than normal, which was probably because he kept running his hands through it. He looked at Hermione, opened his mouth to reply, and promptly shut it.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked as she reached out and set Harry's robes to rights.

"Yes- yes, I'm- I'm fine," Harry said nervously.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Then would you like to tell me what's going on?"

"Ah. Yes, that. Erm, Well..." Harry lifted up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and squinched his eyes shut. "I'msortofproposingtoGinnythismorning."

"You're...what?" Hermione tried not to laugh.

Harry took a deep breath. "Proposing," he said, "To Ginny. This morning. So I'd really appreciate it if you ate breakfast elsewhere."

"Harry, that's wonderful!" Hermione said with a smile, "And don't worry. You'll be fine."

Harry nodded and went back into the kitchen, muttering about croissants and butter.

Hermione trudged back upstairs to fetch a few extra sickles for breakfast.

Fred awoke to the sound of Ron's snoring. George and Ron, after having some sort of mishap involving Christmas lights and fireflies, had both come back to the twins' room the night before. Fred pulled a face at his sleeping brothers. It looked like he would be the one opening the shop today instead of George. I wonder if I should wake Ron up for work...Fred grinned and waved his wand, squirting Ron in the face with a jet of ice-cold water. Humming satisfactorily at his brother's strangled yell, Fred got dressed and grabbed the magenta robes that were his work uniform.

Fred had just finished pulling on his robes, reaching the bottom stair of the staircase, when a small, soft hand grabbed his and pulled him forcefully to the side. He was just about to ask Hermione what exactly she thought she was doing, especially since she had seemed so happy with Charlie the night before, when she made a shushing motion.

"Don't go in there," Hermione whispered, "Harry's planning on proposing to Ginny this morning."

Fred was less focused on the news of his little sister's impending engagement and more concerned with the fact that Hermione's hand was still in his.

"Come on," she said, tugging him towards the fireplace, "You can eat breakfast with me."