"Banned."

Gah. As if he needed Angelina to remind him. As if he didn't have that very same word echoing through his brain. As if it wasn't already driving him crazy. He shot the captain a thoroughly unappreciative look that was little less than a scowl. At the moment everything annoyed him. The crackle of the fire. Even the sound of everyone's breathing was grating on his nerves. George was in no better a mood. They sat apart, next to each other, glaring at their shoes and generally mulling on their misery. At least he was in a better mood than he was before. When George had told him, he had wanted to beat a first year to a bloody pulp just because he had bumped into him in the hall. Banned. He could hardly believe it. And he hadn't even done anything! He hadn't even touched the whimp! The injustice of it all was just too much.

"Banned," was she still talking!? He narrowed his eyes at her, and watched as the crestfallen captain continued. "No Seeker and no Beaters... What on earth are we going to do?"

He made a slightly disgusted sound, and shook his head, though it wasn't really in answer. He looked around once, his eyes skimming over his fellow Quidditch Players, before his gaze dipped back down to the floor, or the fire. He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair with a longsuffering sigh. This had to be one of the worst days of his life. He would never be able to play Quidditch again. That... that was low. Well, of course, he wouldn't actually never play Quidditch again. He was sure that he would be able to sneak a game or two back home, once he left Hogwarts... but that really just wasn't the point. It was unfair. He wanted to go to bed. And brood. Maybe he could dream about hexing Umbridge so badly she barely resembled her own globular self.

Harry was sitting miserably on the couch sandwiched in between Ginny and Hermione, wondering numbly where Ron was and what on earth he was going to do.
No more Quidditch. It seemed like Umbridge was already beginning to take away the things he loved most at Hogwarts – first Quidditch, what next?
She was a twisted foul gargoyle – and just loved to torment him. Why and how could someone take pleasure in that? The injustice of it all made him want to yell at some unsuspecting person for hours on end.
"It's just so unfair," He heard Alicia say from somewhere to his left. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"
"No," Ginny said, and because she was so close to Harry it drew him back to earth with an unpleasant bump. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" said Alicia furiously, pummeling her knee with her fist.
Hermione sighed and set her head on her hand, which was propped up by her elbow.
She had come back to the common room alone to find them here, and decided to sit by Harry for her and Fred hadn't talked since then. She was already depressed that he was angry with her and didn't know if he would forgive her.

Fred lifted his eyes again; just long enough to give Angelina another scalding look. Oh, wouldn't she just drop it? He swore that she was trying to get him all riled up again. His blood had just ceased to boil, and his temper had just cooled enough for him to sit here without being truly hostile. He was getting tired, now. His anger was all simmering down and leaving him broody and moody.

"It's not my fault I didn't," he said, his tone laced with bitterness. "I would've pounded the little scumbag into a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."

He briefly included Alicia and Katie in his glare. He probably wouldn't forgive them for this for a long time. Even though they were on his side – and if they knew that he was going to get punished for hurting Malfoy even if he didn't lay a finger on him, they probably would have not only let him go, but would have cheered George, Harry and he on with a gusto – he just simply couldn't let go the fact that if it weren't for them, he probably would have at least gotten a little bit of satisfaction from the whole ordeal. He bit his lip, turning his eyes away from the chasers to look at the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Where was Ron? The thought struck him suddenly. He wasn't even sure where it had come from. Now that he noticed it, his absence was conspicuous. He of all people had the right to be glad of the day's outcome. Not only had his nemesis been beaten (almost) senseless, but also his (unsupportive) brothers had been thrown off the team. He should have been elated.

He looked last at Hermione. No, he wasn't angry with her. Slightly perplexed, maybe. He wished he could corner her off and talk to her, but he wasn't sure what he would say. He didn't know what she thought of the whole thing, after all. What if she was displeased with his behavior? What if she would say it was his own fault, for letting Malfoy egg him on? Part of him was telling him this was absolutely preposterous, but he didn't know what to think right now. He needed a good night's sleep to figure this whole thing out. A flash of gold caught his eye. He tore his gaze away from Hermione, and for a while watched the snitch as it zoomed its way around the common room.

Hermione had snuck a glance at Fred –for she could've sworn she had felt him looking at her a few seconds before, but he was watching the Snitch when she looked; she sighed and looked back at her cat, who was pawing at the gold object flying around the room as if he was going to catch it.
Her eyes met with the Captain of the team's worriedly, before back onto Crookshanks.
"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream. . . . Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet. . . ."
This made Hermione feel even worse. Even though she wasn't on the team – she felt its pain. Perhaps not as strong as Harry or Fred, or anyone in that matter – but it was still there.
She stood up slowly and walked over to the fire, staring at it blankly. The flames reflected in her gaze.

Harry stared miserably at the dark window. It was snowing – but he felt like it should have been raining. It was not a possibility anymore – it was for certain. The worst day of his life at Hogwarts had come.

As she stood by the warmth of the fire, which was not feeling very warm at all - Hermione suddenly felt a rush of wanting – she wanted to talk to Fred, to comfort him, to be comforted by him, and to confide in him. He – other than Harry – was the only one she could do that to.
She missed talking to him and it had only been a few hours.
Hermione turned her gaze to him and her eyes lingered around his face for a moment or two.

Fred had been watching her as she stood and walked towards the fire. He was fighting some sort of inner battle as he watched her. He felt just as strong the desire to talk to her – to go up to her and tell her he was sorry for whatever he did to make her mad – but he wasn't quite sure whether that would be a good idea or not. He didn't want to fight anymore that night. Maybe if he waited until tomorrow... if he had a bit of time to sleep on it... he wouldn't be so short-tempered? As soon as their eyes met, however, he realized that there really was no battle at all. He didn't really have a choice. He blinked slowly, observing the firelight flickering in her eyes with a sad sort of smile. He tore his gaze away for long enough to toss a glance to his brother. George was busy glowering at the fire. They'd talk later. They didn't really need words, his brother and he – they would share a few dark looks now and again, and then the next thing he knew they would be plotting the demise of madam Umbridge with the fervor of escaped convincts.

He frowned lightly as he made up his mind to carry on with his decision. He stood slowly, and then after a moment's hesitation stepped up to Hermione – as stealthily as a cat, though lumbering as he was now Crookshanks was not much of an example. Somehow, the atmosphere seemed to forbid any noise louder than a whisper, unless the silence would come shattering down around them like a thousand shards of glass. Once he reached Hermione, he paused, looking at her with a wary expression on his face. No, she wouldn't snap at him. She never snapped at him, and she never would if he had anything to do about it. He stepped up closer, hooking his fingers lightly in her sleeve. He leaned in close so they would not be overheard (or at least he wouldn't disturb either George or Harry's interminable broodiness), and said,

"Think we can talk now, Hermione?"

Hermione looked towards Fred and immediately felt a feeling of relief spread through her entire body. He wanted to talk to her! He wasn't thoroughly angry with her!
"Alright... sure," She replied quietly, throwing an uneasy glance toward Harry, nodding, and moving slightly towards the portrait hole.
She wasn't exactly sure what Harry would think of her leaving him there to wallow in his misery, but he didn't look too sociable anyways. Then she saw Ginny and wondered what /she/ would think of her and Fred walking off together. Hermione didn't know whether Ginny knew or not, and wasn't in the mood to tell her at all, so she reassured herself that they were fine, and exited the portrait.

She waited outside slightly nervously. Her stomach was feeling uncomfortable – and she didn't know why. Her head was dizzy, and she wondered why.
Come to think of it, her whole body was feeling awkward and sick, and she had no clue as to /why/.

Fred was far past the point of wondering what the others would think about he leaving the common room with Hermione. Even if his thoughts weren't preoccupied with wondering what the hell he was going to say once he was alone with her, chances were he wouldn't have given it a second thought anyway. If they couldn't come to the conclusion themselves, then it wasn't worth his time explaining it to them. He followed Hermione through the portrait hole, and was just beginning to feel a bit of nervousness himself. More than anything, however, he was feeling impatient. He wanted this whole day and everything that came with it behind him and forgotten. If he couldn't take back what he did or didn't do in the Quidditch Pitch, even if he had wanted to, he knew that he could make things right with Hermione. ...Or he would die trying.

He stepped out into the hall, and took a few seconds to look about and see if any students were present. Actually, he couldn't have cared less whether there were or not. He scratched his red hair thoughtfully, and then finally turned to look at her. He decided it was best to go right to the point. So he said, talking rather slowly, as if he was putting great thought into each word,

"Are you angry with me, Hermione?"

As he spoke, he began to take a few small steps down the hall, a hint that maybe they should walk on. He slipped his hands into his pockets, eyes still fixed on Hermione, still with that slightly uneasy expression on his face. Not that he suspected anybody would be listening in the common room behind the portrait, but he didn't want news of their discussion circulating through the school from the mouth of the Fat Lady herself. She did have a poor reputation of being an amazing gossip, after all.

Hermione began to walk with him, thinking about his question carefully.
Now that he had actually /asked/, it seemed like she didn't know. – At the fire she was confident that she wasn't angry with him, but now... she was having second thoughts.

In some ways, yes. – She was angry with him. For almost attacking Malfoy was the main reason. But then again, he was Fred Weasley, and she liked him for who he was... the feisty, hot-tempered red-head. He had his good qualities, but that was him, and she had to accept that. Besides, he hadn't /actually/ hurt Malfoy. He had restrained himself afterwards.

The other reason was being short with her and leaving her on the ground to go back up to the castle alone – but she squashed this anger by pointing out to herself that /she/ was the one who had been short with him in the first place.

Leave it to Hermione to conquer her inward battles by her own logic.

"No Fred," She said quickly, looking softly at him as they walked. "I'm not angry with you. I thought I was – but not now. I'm glad that we're speaking, because ..." She knew it would sound stupid, but didn't know how else to put it. "Because I missed you. In that brief time when we weren't speaking... - I really did."

This came as a pleasant surprise to the Weasley. He would have thought for sure that she would admit that she was angry, and then that he would have to do a great deal of apologizing and explaining before she forgave him. That was really why he had put it off so long. He nodded slowly, and turned to look in front of him for a while, thinking on what she said. Of course he agreed, and felt the same. She had caught him off-guard though, so he had to think of his answer. He wondered if he had gotten a bludger to the head during the game, and didn't even notice it. That would explain why he was acting a bit slow that night. When he looked back at her again, the look in his brown eyes was softer, and he was smiling.

"I missed you, too," he replied.

He laughed a little. He was feeling better already. He realized that it might have been his (brief) estrangement with Hermione just as much as anything that had been making him so miserable all that evening. He could not believe that it could be so easy to fix this, though. Because... well, Hermione had been angry with him, and he had been acting like a dolt when he was trying to get at Draco, and afterwards. Not that he thought he would have tried to change what he did if he was given the chance (other than kick all three chasers in the shins to make them let go)... but he still knew that it upset Hermione, and the fact that she was upset made him upset. He still thought that it was his duty to apologize, whether she wasn't really angry with him or not.

"Well, I'm still sorry," he said, with a slightly stubborn tone. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I was a real idiot today..."

"You were just being you," Hermione replied quickly. "And you didn't do anything wrong. I mean, if Angelina, Katie and Alicia hadn't stopped you – you would have attacked Draco, - I mean Malfoy, but... that's alright." Her eyes were slightly wider than usual and she was frowning at herself. She felt a half-happy, half-gaping-hole feeling inside her. Hermione was glad that she and Fred were talking again, but something still wasn't right.
Maybe it was that good-luck kiss she owed him. After all, the kisses were nice and always made her feel tingly inside. Yeah, that was it... she tried to reassure herself.

Hermione sighed and looked at him softly.

"I' really missed you, Fred," She repeated, feeling like even if she said it a thousand times it wouldn't get though to him how much she really did.

"I really missed you too, Hermione," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Not that he thought any of this was funny - he just found it rather unbelievable. Without really thinking about it, he slipped an arm around her shoulder. He looked at her still, as if he couldn't get enough of looking at her - as if he thought she had changed somehow in the few hours of their not speaking to each other. He decided that he never wanted to have a real fight with her. Their little tiff... it had been nothing. He knew that. And yet, it left such an impression on him! He could only imagine what would happen if it came right down to both of them screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, the castle walls rocking around them like they did in the Weasley Household whenever any of the family members fought. It would make this day's misery look like some sort of respite.

This was yet another alien feeling that was unique to his relationship with Hermione. He never got so upset when any one of his brothers or sisters - or even his parents - weren't on speaking terms with him. The thing was, he just cared too much about Hermione for him to sit well with her being angry with him. He didn't know how he was going to arrange for something like this never to happen again, or whether it was possible, but he was going to have to try.

How in Bill's name would they ever survive when their first fight came...?

That day would to be a catastrophe – an utter disaster. Hermione didn't even know if she would be able to handle it.

She couldn't even handle not being on speaking terms with Fred for a few /hours/, let alone a serious fight, which was sure to be over a few days. If they ever did, Hermione would go mad and lose her mind from the stress.
She enjoyed every second she spent with Fred – he was so free, and so away from all the busy atmosphere of studying. Not that she didn't like it, she still loved everything she did before she was with Fred, books, studying, - but now was different.
Not only did Hermione love her studious ways – she had Fred to add to the list.

Wait. What was she saying... did she love Fred? Was it that serious?
That was too deep of thinking for right now. Maybe later.

"Let's go outside," She said abruptly, but in a quiet tone. "I'm tired of this stuffy old castle."

"Sure."

Quick answer – short and simple. He didn't have to put any real thought into it. He didn't care that it was after dark, and probably bitterly cold outside. He would go anywhere, so long as Hermione was with him, and they weren't fighting anymore. He wondered at how quickly his happiness became dependant on her. Already his mood was beginning to brighten. He realized that he forgot he was supposed to be moody and broody about being kicked off the Quidditch team for a full thirty seconds. He chuckled. Actually, everything was beginning to take on an amusing light now. The way Draco looked after Harry and George had (respectively) kicked his arse, all the angst that followed, even Hermione and his ridiculous fight... it was all beginning to seem particularly funny. Amazing how abruptly his mood could swing like that. He wondered if it was Hermione's doing, or if the day's drama had left him mentally unhinged.

"We're doomed, you know," he said, grinning. "Or, I am, at least."

"- In what way?" Hermione asked, slowly putting her right hand up on Fred's as they walked, nearly to the front doors now.
Doomed? Well yes, for what /she/ was thinking – but could Fred possibly be thinking the same thing?
She opened the front door for them and was not at all happy by the rush of frost-bitten cold that greeted them, but was exceptionally excited when she saw how beautiful it was. The snow looked like diamonds all around from the moonlight, crunchy, and frosty looking as it sat happily on the ground. – A lone set of foot-prints showed someone had not yet returned from their walk outside, but Hermione was too distracted by the beautiful sight.
The sky was crystal clear, and black, and Hermione was strongly reminded of the last time she and Fred had been outside in the snow at night. It was a frightful, horrifying memory, but fun and adventurous at the same time.
"This looks familiar..." She said quietly with a small smile.

"Yes, a bit," he said, also smiling. "Only I think the lake might actually be frozen this time."

He kept his voice in a hushed tone. It was so peaceful outside. So still. So... silent. He had the oddest impression that the snow would suddenly crumble, or melt or disappear or something if he spoke too loudly. Ah, what an emotional rollercoaster that night had been! He'd been happy one minute, worried, terrified, relieved, terrified again, confused, exhausted... wow. It made him sort-of sleepy just to be reminded of it. Regardless, it was a good memory. It had been a good day. To think, if any of that hadn't happened, chances were Hermione and he wouldn't be here at all. They would only be - er - acquaintances, constantly nit-picking at each other over his testers and her prefect duties. Rather scary thought, that. He turned to look at her again, as he found her infinitely more pretty than the snow. Suddenly, something occurred to him.

"You know..." he began, eyes sparkling. "Gryffindor did win today..."

Hermione began walking, so entranced by the beauty outside - that at first she didn't realize what Fred was talking about.
"Hmm?" She asked distractedly, turning around to walk backwards, staring around at everything but him. The sky, the snow, and especially the castle, which was looking dark and magnificently noble that night.
"What do you mean?"

Then her memory was jogged, and her face broke into a disapproving smile. "Oh no you don't –" She began slowly, taking a few steps backwards.
Teasing was so much fun. Especially when it's your first time with the first boy you've ever liked.

"Oh yes I do!"

Laughing, Fred began to advance on Hermione, just as slowly as she was backing away. He had to admit - there was a certain charm about teasing. Well, as long as he got what he wanted at the end, at least. Funny how one can completely forget that they are ankle-deep in snow and completely freezing when they have other, more pleasant things to distract them.

"You promised!" he accused, taking on an injured look that was just as sincere as Hermione's disapproval. "You're not going to go back on your word now, are you?"

He wondered how he was even able to remember Hermione's said promise. Everything that happened before or after the Quidditch Match was completely overshadowed by the events after the game. He was rather pleased. Ha. And to think that he would have let her get away with it, too, if he hadn't remembered...!

"Maybe not," said Hermione darkly, smiling in spite of herself. She backed up and around a tree, hung on its side, and stared at Fred with her eyes positively sparkling. "But I'll need to make sure you don't over-stay our bargain, mister mischief-maker..."
With her face in an uncontrollable smile, her eyes twinkling, and her coy aura, it was hard to imagine that Hermione had a few things in her mind, even though they had been pushed to the back and temporarily forgotten since the evening was so thrilling.
Even as he, his twin, and Harry were banned from the team, Fred was happy, and she was happy. – He was even more incredible than she thought.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" She teased.

"'Over-stay'...?" Fred laughed. "What on earth made you think I'd do something like that?"

There was a slightly sarcastic ring to his voice. She had managed to catch him off-guard with that statement, make him laugh, again. He decided not to respond to her last question. If she could play coy, he could play oblivious. He also realized that he had had enough of the playful teasing, fun though it might be. He sobered a little, and then stepped up to her. He took the last few steps remaining between Hermione and himself. Having sobered a bit, his grin softened into a smile. He slipped an arm around her waist, leaning in to put a small, playful kiss on the tip of her nose. He winked at her.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to."

Such nonsense! He wasn't even sure if those words meant anything. He was simply talking for the sake of saying something. Oh well. He was not in the mood to think about it. In fact, he didn't want to think about anything. He moved in to press a lingering kiss against her lips, a more appropriate place than his first try. He seemed to have forgotten it was Hermione who promised the kiss.

Oh well.

With a shocked laugh, Hermione's eyes widened and her face went slightly pink in disbelief. - What was this?!
Her hand flew to his mouth, pressing down on it and separating their lips.
"I thought," She began quietly, looking behind him but speaking into his ear. " - that it was me who was supposed to give you the kiss... not the other way around..."
Even though she was speaking disapprovingly, Hermione was quite astounded at Fred's dare to do such things. After all, he had been a joker all his life, and having a romantic side was so unlike him!
It was surprisingly easy to toy with him though, and that was what led Hermione to believe she was going mad. She had never in her entire life had practice with her feelings this way.

Hmm. No. Fred had not been born a natural romantic, huh? Well, Hermione certainly was not making it easy for him now! He had said it before, he would probably say it again - she was a tease. Really! Since when had she been the joker and he - well, not? Talk about a reversal of roles. He would have to remedy that later. He did have a reputation to keep up, anyway. Couldn't allow himself to become a sentimental sap now, could he? The orange-haired boy blinked at her, lips curling into a smile behind her fingers. What was this - the second, third time she did that? He wondered what her reaction would be if he nipped her the next time she tried it. This time, though, he nodded. He gently tugged her wrist away, so he could return the whisper.

"You're right!" he exclaimed. "Why, it's completely slipped my mind. Sorry! Oh well - carry on, then."

He immediately broke out into a smug grin. He took a step back, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow at her. He was waiting.

Alright. If he could play those games - then so could she.
Hermione wasn't bad at teasing, she had just never practiced it before in her life, was all.
But what about kissing? - Was she a bad kisser? She'd never really thought about it before.
Well obviously not if Fred still wanted a kiss. Okay then.
Hermione tried her best not to laugh as Fred pulled back and watched her.
She copied him and crossed her arms as well, repeating, " ... carry on." quietly.
"You're unbelievable!" She laughed, eyes sparkling from the cold. It was just as romantically exciting as their adventure on the lake, only not the same situation.
She bit her lip mock-irritably as their stand-off increased, then gave up with a sigh and moved closer to him. "Fine then..."
Very softly, she pulled his arms apart so she could get even closer, brought her lips up to his and brushed them across in one movement.
"Enough yet?" The brown-eyed girl asked, keeping her face and lips just as close.

For a moment or two, Fred thought that Hermione was going to stand there, smirking and trying to look disapproving at him forever. Ah – he loved that look. He truly did. Though at the same time it was the most annoying thing in the world. So strange he felt! He was just as excited as he was whenever he was about to go into a Quidditch game, even. He thought he would have gone crazy if Hermione changed her mind and tried to tease him any longer. But she didn't! ...But she might as well have been, pulling back before he could barely react.

Haha.
Funny.
Hermione was very funny, wasn't she?

Fred certainly thought so.

"Mm... no," he replied, with the flicker of a smile.

Simple answer. Nice and blunt, and quite true, too. He simply wanted nothing to do with tiny little pecks like that. Sure, it was nice and all and he certainly would not complain, but... well, as has already been confirmed, he was a male. He wanted a real kiss! Why, after he had such a horrible day, and having to wait so long for his good-luck kiss, he thought it was only what he deserved. Oh, the logic of a Weasley.
Anyway, after giving his little answer, he grasped Hermione lightly by the forearms and pulled her a little closer for what he believed was a more appropriate kiss.

Well.

Funny.
Fred was very funny, wasn't he?

Hermione was about to think so, before she realized that Fred was pulling her closer, and she was absolutely mortified about it. What had she been /thinking/... teasing in that manner!
For a moment or two her heart raced at the thought of a boy pulling her closer to him by her arms. But then – then, her eyes met with his, and hers saw how much his really did want a kiss.
But. But – Hermione thought. Maybe he didn't want just another kiss. Maybe he wanted a deeper kiss, or something else than just one more kiss.

The prospect rather frightened Hermione.

Her mind was torn eight different ways. She was trying to mix logic with feelings - and the turnout wasn't nice. Those two just didn't go well together.

Hermione was just about to say something, when suddenly she felt something airy hit her square in the back and she thought no more. Her mind was wiped blank, and she was suddenly controlled by movements that were not hers at all.

First, her hand moved up to Fred's chest and her fingers tightened around his tie. Then the hand moved back down to his arm and played with the cuff of his robe sleeve slightly.

Her eyes had this glossy look to them, (which probably wasn't too distinguishable from the way the sparkled from the cold,) and looked unusually mischievous... in a way that was quite unlike Hermione. But then, she continued to surprise Fred often, so why couldn't this be real? Even if she would never think to do such things.

"A real kiss," She whispered, a dangerous grin curving her lips. "Alright,"
Quite sensually, Hermione moved her face so close to Fred's that their noses were touching, and ran her tongue along his lips in a slow movement.

Hermione's actions had the most peculiar effect on Fred. It was almost as if they flicked a switch inside of him that made his mind go completely blank, and made his heart suddenly start beating so fast it was as if he were running a race. Maybe this was why he didn't take the time to examine the situation. For, surely, if he had been in his right mind, something about this would have put him off guard. Yes, Hermione had been acting strangely and surprising him of late, but she had never done anything so... utterly out of character as this. And, no – he had not seen that spark of panic in her eyes one instant before that change came over her. Nah. At the moment there was absolutely nothing strange about this at all. Hermione was just in a particularly good mood, was all...

In half an instant he had reacted, responded to her teasing (in his opinion, a much better kind of teasing). He leaned in, and in an instant was kissing her, quite differently than he had before. He was not rough, of course, or forcing in any way – but there was an entirely new motive behind this kiss than any of their others. He wanted more of the touch, the feel, the taste of her lips. He wanted her closer. He wanted... more. He mimicked Hermione, running his tongue languidly over her lips... and then he hesitated, as if making sure one last time that she was okay with this before he lost his head (as if he hadn't already).

Such a gentleman!

Alright. So had Hermione actually known what they were doing, she would've done one of two things.
She would've either stepped back, realized this was a stupid brash thing to do, and tell both him /and/ herself off for snogging each other's lips off - (this would've been something the old Hermione would do. Before she met Fred and he completely turned her emotions upside-down.) - or she would have gone on with the frightening movements nervously.
But since this was not actually Hermione we're talking about, she continued to act as though it were someone inside of her, telling her to be far more sensual than she normally was.
With a casual look at Fred when he paused to see if she was alright, she drew him closer - her back bumping up against the tree – and ran a single finger across his lips, closely followed by her own lips.
A smile crossed her features once more as her twinkly brown eyes scanned his face after the kiss.
Strange... the grin had never even left in the first place.
With a sudden urge she smoothed a small part his robes away from his neck and pressed her lips to his warm skin, which actually did feel warm to her – as it was not the Imperius curse was under... therefore she felt.
Just didn't think.
/That/ was obvious...

It is never a good idea to have two people not thinking in a single situation. As was priorly observed, Fred was beyond thought. But that was not so unusual. The Weasley twin really was renown for jumping into situations without giving them a single thought, so this instance was not quite remarkable.

Actually, when Hermione kissed his neck, he was thinking of something - only one thing, however. It tickled! Fred found it very difficult to keep from grinning like an idiot or snickering, but it tickled! Not unpleasantly so, of course. In fact, it felt good, but... He curled his index finger under Hermione's chin, and tilted her face up to his. Smirking, he leaned in close to kiss her again, lips falling on the corner of her mouth. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her close to him, placed small kisses over the side of her face, tracing his way to her her neck.

He pressed his hand tightly against the small of her back, rumpling the fabric of her robes beneath his fingers as he ran them upwards, tracing the curve of her spine until the rough scrape of bark stopped him at her shoulders. He found it fascinating, the slope of her back, the curve of her neck, the dip of her collarbone where it met her shoulder. Curves... girls - and subsequently Hermione - was all curves, their bodies a perfect symetry of curves, slopes, and arches. Funny how he had never noticed this before!

In a moment he had mimicked Hermione's actions of a few moments ago, pressing down part of her robe so her pale neck was bared to him and his kisses. The hand that was not pressed to her back lifted to her head, curled in her hair. He wondered, briefly, if Hermione had ever done this before... whatever "this" was... with Krum, or... well, with Ron, for all he knew. She certainly seemed sure of herself.

However would she react if she saw herself doing this...?
If someone were to somehow record and capture this session in the snow, and if she were to watch it later under her right mind – she would probably be horrified with her brash actions, and scared to absolute death that she had done something of /that/ extent with a boy.
Well, this was Fred. And Fred wasn't just any /boy/... she really needed to stop thinking of him as that. He was different. And she cared about him.
... But still! She was acting positively un-Hermione like as possible. And if she could only see herself now...

The not-so-in-her-right-mind-Hermione allowed Fred to do everything he wanted, and when he put his hand in her hair, drew in a sharp breath and pressed a kiss into his mouth.
She suddenly wanted more of his skin, craved more of the warmth...
- Something Hermione would not think at all, and even if she did, she wouldn't actually put it into action. Her nerves would scare her down too much.
She slid her hand up Fred's un-tucked shirt, feeling his hot skin and bringing the hand to his neck, scratching his skin lightly.
Her mind was disorted with mingled jolts of desire – uncanny, and scary.
This was most assuredly not Hermione in her right state.

For just a half a moment, a first smidgeon of doubt flickered through Fred's mind.

Should they be doing this?

Almost the instant the thought surface, he had brushed it away with utmost impatience. Of course they should, he assured himself! How long had he and Hermione been an item? Long enough, considering today's standards. There were couples their age that had been together half so long, who had already gone much farther than this! Thus justified, his mind was wiped blissfully clear of all coherent thought, and he continued on virtually guiltless with his and Hermione's snogging session.

Without thinking, he returned Hermione's kiss with perhaps just a bit more vigour than he had received, taking control of it, slipping his tongue past her lips and teeth. It was amazing, the effect this girl was having on him! That single, trailing touch made his heart race even more quickly than it had done before, and caused all the blood to be rushed from his head. He was dizzy, and excited. All of this was new to him - and quite interesting to boot.

His hand moved restlessly over her back, her shoulders, passing over the small of her back and coming to rest on the curve of her hip. Right-minded Hermione probably would have hit him for something like that. He was beginning to get frustrated by the clothing he was encountering. There seemed to be layers and layers of the unwanted fabric between his hand and skin! How was it that Hermione had so easily gotten past this particular barrier? Honestly, the cleverness of that girl confounded him sometimes.

Twisted thoughts began to fill Hermione's already-altered mind... ones she would most certainly be ashamed of had she been normal.
She wanted his shirt off, or – something. Something off. She didn't care or think of what.
How odd was she acting! Her hand up his shirt? Hermione was not normally so flamboyant.
With an impish smile, she ran her finger down his stomach in a slow movement, took it out of his shirt, and was just about to have another go at his lips - when she felt something twist in her brain.
It felt as if someone were taking sandpaper and rubbing it inside her head dully, to get rid of the sharp punctuating thoughts that had possessed her moments before.
She blinked a few times and the grin was lost, replaced by a confused look.
"... Fred?" She asked slowly, feeling all her senses and wits come back to her quite quickly.
The brown-eyed and seemingly foolish girl suddenly felt the cold snow around them, and it was very cold indeed. She was suddenly aware of where they were, and wasn't exactly sure of what had happened just minutes ago. Was she really that old? No - only sixteen! And you didn't begin to lose your memory until at least sixty! That, or you would have a memory charm put on you, but still – back to where she was.
What had just gone on?
She felt it would look foolish to ask him what had just happened, as obviously, nothing had. The last she knew she and Fred were walking through the snow...
But why was Fred's shirt all rumpled, and why were her lips tingling?

Must've been the cold.