When Hermione finally left Hogwarts, taking with her a collection of the highest N.E.W.T.s ever known to the school, she took a job at the Ministry in the newly-established Department for the Welfare and Ethical Treatment of Magical Non-Humans, or 'WET'. as the twins occasionally teased her. The new department was just one of the sweeping reforms made by their old friend Kingsley, the new Minister for Magic.

Thinking she might now want a base in London, George and Fred tentatively offered her the small spare bedroom in their flat above the shop, clearing out all the boxes and supplies that had previously taken up the space. They had never forgotten what had happened when she came across one of the punching telescopes in their old room at the Burrow. The twins would not hear of accepting even a sickle in rent. It was an honour they had not even bestowed on Ron, who was now sharing an increasingly squalid flat in Kilburn with Seamus and Dean, Ginny having finally evicted him from Grimmauld Place.

The three were very happy together as flatmates, though the bond was still a topic they were still not able to broach. As a result, Hermione tended to work extra-long hours at the Ministry or bring home files to work on, to avoid the looks she could not help noticing from the twins.

The twins tried to give her the space she needed, but ensured they had a decent meal ready when she came home each evening – a tendency they had inherited from Molly. George did most of the regular cooking, but Fred tended to take over in the kitchen whenever guests were expected and something more elaborate was required.

Hermione tried going out with other boys, sometimes wizards, sometimes Muggle boys from her old neighbourhood. Nothing lasted more than a few weeks; none of the young men she met felt right. She was completely oblivious to the torture these half-hearted romances put the twins through.

She began to wonder if the bond really was as strong as the book suggested – she had powerful feelings for the twins, but the fear of dealing with them deterred her, and she sensed that they felt the same way. Their twin-ness also deterred her. She cared for them equally, and told herself it was better to suffer in silence than to have to make a choice between them. Perhaps the book had only intended the bond to be a fraternal feeling? Were the twins really meant only to be like brothers to her? She told herself it could only be a matter of time before they found girlfriends of their own.

A year passed, and none of the three had the courage to bring up the subject, until Hermione was driven to desperate measures. After weeks of pestering, she finally agreed to go out with Cormac McClaggan.

'Oh, come away from that window,' said Fred, stretched out on the sofa, affecting carelessness.

'Mmm?' asked his brother, not really hearing, not taking his eyes off the street outside.

Fred got up and steered George away by the elbow. 'Keeping watch like that won't bring her home any earlier. She's on a date, little brother. She won't be home for hours yet.'

'It's torture, Freddie. Knowing she's out there with that lump McClaggan. You know he'll be trying his hardest to get her drunk and get into her knickers, don't you? Doesn't that drive you mad?'

Fred slumped back down onto the sofa. It did drive him mad, but he was a little better at hiding it than his twin. 'C'mon, Georgie, there's got to be something better for us to do. How about shop accounts?' Only those who knew him well could detect the smirk at the corner of his mouth.

George was about to retort to the effect that doing the shop accounts would bring him even greater agony, but was interrupted by a loud slam of the street door downstairs. The sound was followed by unmistakable angry footsteps up the stairs to the flat. 'She's home already, Fred!'

The twins hurled themselves into nonchalant poses on the sofa as Hermione stomped into the room.

'Good date, then?' said Fred, the smirk now far more visible.

Hermione threw her handbag onto the kitchen table. 'Yes, lovely, thank you', she snapped, in a tone that told her flatmates that further questions would probably be met by a jinx. 'I just thought I'd get home early and get a start on this paperwork I brought home from the Ministry.'

Hermione scooped up a teetering pile of parchment and began to make her way over to the desk beyond the living-room sofa. But the low heels she wasn't used to wearing betrayed her. As one ankle went sideways, the stack of reports tipped over and flew everywhere, catching a breeze from the window George had left open.

Hermione stopped, frozen, for a moment, then burst into angry tears as she surveyed the mess of parchment around the room. 'It's so maddening,' she spat out. 'They were all arranged by species, and then in chronological order. It's going to take the rest of the evening just to reorganise them.'

George and Fred exchanged glances and took out their wands. They said the incantation 'Disponso!' in unison and swirled their wands around the room at the parchment. The files wafted up and did a mad dance in the air before neatly arranging themselves in a single heap on the table. 'Have a look, Hermione – see if they're ok now', Fred suggested.

Hermione quickly flicked through the pile, her shoulders still shaking slightly. She gasped and looked around at the twins, both allowing themselves a smug smile at her. 'This is amazing – they're in perfect order. How…?'

'It's a little spell we made up ourselves, a few months after we opened the shop', George explained, trying, and failing, to look at least slightly modest.

'It was driving us mad too', Fred continued, 'keeping track of all our accounts and receipts – not to mention all that paperwork Gringotts requires – and every time someone opened the shop door from Diagon Alley, our paperwork would blow everywhere – there's quite a draught.'

'So, we made up this little number,' George finished. 'We can teach you any time, if you like. It's helped Harry a lot – you know how hopeless he is with his reports.'

Hermione shook her head in awe. 'Boys, you really are the cleverest wizards – don't let anyone tell you you're not just because you're not high up in the Ministry. Thank you.'

'You get it, don't you, Hermione?' said George. 'You're the only one who ever really did apart from Harry. Even though the shop's doing well, some people think we're wasting our powers.'

His words seemed to reverse the good their spell had done. Hermione slumped to the ground, leaning against the sofa. The twins were beside her in seconds.

'Out with it,' said George, kneeling in front of her, taking one of Hermione's hands in both of his. 'It's not the parchment, is it? What happened with McClaggen? Do we need to petrificus him?'

Hermione had her head bowed, unable to make eye contact with either man. 'It was exactly as you'd expect with him, wasn't it?' she muttered. 'I thought he'd have grown up a bit, but he's just as much of an octopus as ever. We'd barely sat down at the pub and his hands were all over me.'

The twins put aside their murderous thoughts as they tried to console Hermione. They had become very familiar with McClaggan's noxious attitude to the girls at school, who he viewed as merely a challenge to be overcome. They knew that even now, after yet another rejection from Hermione, he would be turning the disastrous date into a tale of his sexual triumph to anyone stupid enough to listen.

Fred put an arm around her shoulders and George stroked her hand. 'There'll be other blokes, love. Better ones,' Fred said through gritted teeth.

'Just try to stay away from cephalopods in future,' George added.

'It's no good', Hermione cried, though George's joke seemed to have cheered her a little. 'I just don't seem to be on the same wavelength as anyone else. Sorry, that's a Muggle radio term. Your dad would know. Any man I meet is just trying to bed the witch who helped kill Voldemort, and the ones I want, I can't have.'

George and Fred caught each others' eyes briefly, the plural not lost on either of them.

George tested it out gently. 'Do you mean Harry and Ron?'

'No!' Hermione shook her head vehemently. 'You know they're just friends, like brothers to me, really. Harry and Ginny are so perfect together, and Ron loves playing the field – he doesn't mind girls just trying to bed the wizard who helped kill Voldemort. If there was anything between us it would have happened by now.' She was babbling to cover the awkwardness of the situation.

George took a deep breath. 'Then do you mean us, by any chance?'

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