Well, she thought to herself, there's nowhere to run now. Before her loomed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the street largely empty, and the windows of the surrounding buildings dark. She might have arrived a few hours earlier than she had planned, but she'd had nothing left to occupy her time and she'd been unaccountably nervous. She'd shrunk her things, mostly books, and placed them in her beaded bag which was hanging weightlessly by her side. When that was finished there was nothing else to do except pace in the kitchen and get in Molly's way. Eventually Molly had shooed her away with a crushing hug, a kiss on the cheek and a napkin full of treats to tide her over until lunch.
"Go, Hermione dear, I'll see you this Sunday. Family dinner."
She walked up to the front door, painted magenta, and went to knock, knuckles poised to strike against the hard wood. She hesitated there for a long minute, long enough to draw a stare from a witch passing by in lemon colored robes. Finally, she shook herself. She was being ridiculous. Ridiculous! She was Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake, a fully grown woman, a talented witch. She wasn't going to stand shaking in her boots on the doorstep of a couple of tricksters. She rapped her knuckles smartly on the frame of the door before she could think about it again, then stepped back to wait, smoothing her cream colored blouse and pushing back a curl that had slipped from her tight bun.
Absolutely no one came to the door. She got the irrational urge to scream. Instead she stepped back to the door and knocked (pounded) again. The door swung open so fast she nearly fell through and into the arms of a rather grumpy bare-chested Weasley.
"Cor Hermione, do you know what time it is?" She felt a small blush blooming on her cheeks, both for clearly waking him, and her proximity to the flat planes of his chest. She stuck out her chin, studiously ignoring the freckles sprinkled across the expanse of skin at eye level.
"Half seven George, now move your massive bulk out of the way." She brushed past him, standing stunned in the doorway, just making it inside before his boisterous laughter came from behind her. She couldn't stop the grin creeping on her face, and the way it stretched her cheeks was a pleasant, if unfamiliar ache. They walked through the shop, empty shelves and dusty counters standing in silent witness, and up the stairs, George taking them two at a time.
"What in the bloody..." Fred emerged through the door just as they arrived, hair thoroughly mussed, barefoot and also shirtless. "Oh, Hermione... I. Uh, good morning?" Fred at least had the decency to look a bit embarrassed at being caught in his pants.
"Good morning Fred. Have any tea?" Fred nodded, off to fiddle with a kettle, while George lounged at the table in the kitchenette, a grin still in place. She took the calm moment to look around the flat, which was modest but lovely. The sitting room, kitchen and dining room were all one large open area, the kitchen in mauve and the sitting room in a deep green. A hall lead off from the kitchen toward what she assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom. At least, she assumed that there would be two bedrooms. Right?
"Tea?" Fred offered, and she took the proffered cup, careful to keep their fingers from meeting around its edge and taking a rather large and scalding gulp. She dropped into a chair at the dining table. Fred and George exchanged a glance, the meaning of which she would never be able to read.
"Well," George began, "we weren't thinking of getting started quite so early,"
"But now that you're here, perhaps you'd like to hear the master plan?" Fred finished with a wink. She nodded, feeling inexplicably eager.
"Well... most of the stock we had before the war is spoiled or stolen, and we don't have many ingredients still around."
"And then we need to get back to product design. It'll be a relief to be able to invent without having to worry about whether it will find its way into the wrong hands, or thinking about war application." George was nodding along, and Hermione was a little surprised to see them doing anything so seriously, especially so early in the morning. Fred was listing ingredients off to George seemingly off the top of his head, and George was taking quick notes on a pad of paper he'd found lying around.
"What's my role in this master plan?" They both looked up, almost as if they had forgotten she was there.
"Well that's a good question..." Fred intoned, both men leaning back simultaneously, stroking imaginary beards.
"We honestly do need help just getting the shop in order, purchasing new supplies, thinking about new products. It's a tall order, even for two such talented wizards as ourselves," George supplied.
"And who better to help than Hogwarts' best and brightest. Blimey Hermione, if you put your brain to it, there's no telling what we could think up," Fred said, and the honesty of it (with only a hint of teasing) made her blush, which seemed to be a record number in the past thirty minutes.
"Well," she said, standing and brushing imaginary dust off of her jeans, "that sounds like an excellent place to start." They stood as well, both grinning. "More clothes might be appropriate, though." She was gratified to see them blush for a change, and interested to see that it spread down to their necks and shoulders.
"Don't like what you see?" George recovered enough to say, leaning against Fred with some nonchalance, though the image was ruined by the pink still in his cheeks. Hermione scoffed with mock seriousness, brandishing a finger at the both of them.
"You two don't need any help with your egos. Now get your decidedly flabby arses into some trousers so we can get started." They grinned at that, performing a synchronized turn and sauntering towards the bedrooms. Hermione certainly did not look at their bums as they left. Certainly not.
She found herself giggling, and she couldn't quite remember when it had happened last. With a happy sigh she drew her wand out of the pocket of her jeans, and went through the door to the shop, closing it behind her. It was much more gray inside there, where the light didn't filter through the windows, which were streaked with grime. Hermione thought that it didn't appear that anyone had been in there since before the war had broken out in earnest.
The single thought of the war was like cold water on her happy mood, sending a small shiver down her back. This was just like hundreds of other shops that remained closed throughout magical Britain, whose owners were dead or if living, had possessed no will to return to their pre-war life. She could feel the edge of sorrow, just on her peripheral, waiting to creep back in. Instead she brandished her wand and set to banishing all the dust and filth she could see. She was so absorbed in the task, enjoying the feel of casting again, that she didn't hear someone approaching down the stairs. A hand settled on her shoulder without warning, sending a buzzing sensation down her arm.
She stifled a scream, spinning on her heel and jamming the business end of her wand under the jaw of the aggressor. George's eyes were saucers, his hands up in surrender.
"I'm so sorry 'Mione, I should have thought... I didn't mean to scare you." She dropped her arm with a shuddering breath, her wand falling from dead fingers to clatter on the floor. Fear raced through her veins like ice.
"I... I could have hurt you," she whispered, voice trembling. George stooped to grab her wand, reaching out towards her limp hand.
"Can I touch you?" She nodded numbly, fighting to calm her racing heart. He placed the wood, warm to her touch, back into her hand and curled her fingers around it.
He looked her in the eyes, then slowly leaned forward and enveloped her in a hug. For a long moment he was still, simply letting her relax into the embrace. After a long minute, he spoke. "I'm sorry. I promise, you're safe now." The warmth of him leeched the tension from her spine until she felt boneless, like she could breathe again. He pulled back, sliding his hands down her arms until his hands engulfed her smaller ones. Her skin buzzed under his fingertips. "Ok?"
"I'm ok," she managed. He didn't say anything, just raised a single eyebrow. She managed a smile at that. "I'll be ok." He grinned.
"That's all any of us can hope for. Now," he brandished a list which he appeared to have pulled from thin air, "ready to get started?" She squeezed his hands, earning a broader smile.
"As I'll ever be."