Title: Puerile

Rating: T for innuendoes, language, and bad attempt at humor

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. (But I am working on it! Do you think J.K. Rowling takes bribes? I make a great snicker doodle).

A/N: *Laughs nervously* Remember what I said about updating in two weeks? Well, that was completely thrown out the window. *Murders physics book*. But here is chapter 2! It's a little shorter than the other chapter (i think), but I didn't want to drag it out (completely failed though). Anyway, since this is somewhat AU, most of the characters are still alive (I just can't handle the thought of them actually being dead)… and somewhat ooc (don't kill me!). I tried to keep them in character, but angsty, depressed trio and friends take all the humor out a story (not that I have anything against angst, *once again tackles physics book). Sorry, If it's slightly boring, but it'll be more interesting, I swear!

Warning: Weasley twins, a five year old Hermione, and a disgruntled Draco Malfoy. Must I say more?

Chapter 2: As easy as …

Puerile (adjective):

Silly; regarded as childishly silly or immature

Relating to Childhood; relating to or the characteristic of childhood

"Ahhh! For the love of Merlin, why the bloody hell is it so hot?" Ron groaned as he threw himself back, his face flushed red, and his back against the untamed grass of the burrow's little garden. While he enjoys summer and all, but days like these really made him wish he could dunk himself in a mountain of snow and never come out. Ahh… what I wouldn't give to be an ice cube! His hair was sticky and wet, hanging in sweaty clumps at the tip of his forehead, and his limbs felt as if they were crying from the bloody heat. Rolling over and spreading out on the grass, Ron could feel another presence plop next to him as he stretch his limbs out in a snow angel formation. Ahhh…snow.

"I feel like I just got baked by a karkaroff!" Harry tiredly exclaimed. His limbs felt achingly sore and he couldn't move them without exhibiting some form of masochism. Bloody Boggarts, Ginny really could hit a bludger.

"Well technically you almost did, remember?" Ron responded, a big grin on his face before he winced as the muscles in his face refused to be exerted.

"Don't remind me", Harry said drearily.

"I can't feel my muscles anymore. Damn it, I can't even smile without feeling sore".

"I know what you mean." Ginny replied as she ungracefully fell right next to Harry taking his right side as Ron already claimed the other. "Oh, and sorry about the bludger Harry", she said, a bashful but playful smile on her lips.

"You nearly knocked me off my broom", he teasingly whined as he turned on his side to face her.

"Well, I didn't have the twins as my brothers for nothing". Harry couldn't do anything but nod.

"Speaking of Fred and George, where are they anyway?" Ron questioned as he tilted his head towards the house, biting back another groan as he did so.

"Not sure, they said something about going to check on the shop I think", Harry dryly remarked, tentatively moving around a few fingers.

"I hope they haven't done anything bad", Ginny heavily breathed out. At the unbelieving stares she received from the two boys, she quickly amended, "well…too bad".

Peering down at Hermione's face, Fred and George couldn't help but blush as her small cherub features continually lit up in a bright grin. With those chubby cheeks, button like nose, and incredibly large eyes, they had to admit that she was downright adorable. Leaning a little closer, Fred faced the small girl as she fidgeted upon the counter of their shop with her legs swinging dangerously close to their abdomens (and other er- male body parts) from her newly perched height. George, however, looked at the bundle with a slight grimace, while his hands gently rubbed the newly made scratched above his forearm where somehow the tiny Hermione had managed to dig her claws into him when he had tried to pick her up. Apparently, even in her miniature form, Hermione was still quite adverse to the counter.

"So, ummm, do you know who I am?" Fred asked hesitantly as he peered deeply into her face while her eyes searched his features.

"Of wourse I do!" She shouted in a very joyous manner. "You're Fed!" This she said with a big flourish as she made a large movement to point at him.

Holding back his chuckle at the girl's impromptu name for his twin, George stood next to his brother and gave her a slight pat on the head. "Now aren't you a smart girl" he said, grinning at her enthusiastic nod while he pointed to himself, "Well do you know who I am?"

For a few seconds she was quiet, but then with a bright smile she shouted "Reorge!"

"Er- you mean George?" George quickly corrected her as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

After a few seconds, she shook her tiny head in response, her hair fanning out and whipping about, while doggedly pointed to him and spoke, "No…Reorge!"

Sighing, he pointed to himself and shook his head, "No, 'mione, I'm George. Ge-or-ge", he said while enunciating each sound.

Shaking her head again she adamantly persisted, "Reorge!"

"George"

"Reorge!"

"Ggggggg-eorge"

"Rrrrrrr-eorge!"

"Ggggggggggg-eor- ahhh!" he finished as Fred chucked him slightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, blimey boggarts, you're not bloody arguing with a little kid are you, Georgie?" Fred asked his twin with a clearly amused expression on his face, "Or should I say Reorgie?"

"Rrrrrrr-eor-ehhhh?" Hermione questioned dazedly while giving them a toothy grin.

"Ah, yes, my bad, so it's Rrrrrrr-eor-ahhhh!" Fred laughed as his face broke into a large grin.

"Can it Fred". George threatened as he lifted a fist, his face quickly turning the same shade of red as his hair as he looked sideways.

"Sorry, mate". Fred apologized; his lips were still twitching.

Hurried to change the topic, George quickly glanced back to the tiny girl at the stone counter who was still swinging her short legs exuberantly and looked blissfully content at pulling on the sleeves of his robes. "Well, she definitely knows who we are", George said, turning back to his twin with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Yeah, considering she already said our names" Fred reminded him. "Well tried to say our names anyway". He snickered again.

George fought down the urge to blush - again. He was sure that if any more blood were to rush to his face, he would die of a trauma induced headache caused by too much oxygen in the brain or perhaps die of losing too much blood when they had to amputate his limbs because of oxygen deprivation to the other parts of his body. Anyhow, neither seemed like a good way to go.

"I know, but we can't be too sure. Besides it seems that while she knows who we are, er- kind of, she doesn't completely remember everything. It seems as though not only did she revert into a five year old, but her memories are somewhat suppressed too".

Nodding, Fred couldn't help but joke lightly, "If she did, she would probably hex us till the next blue moon and then bring us back so she could hex us again".

"Somehow, I wouldn't doubt that at all". George agreed with a nod and silently glad that her wand was far out of her reach.

"But..." Fred started, his face unsure as he motioned his twin closer, "for now, what are we supposed to do with her?" he continued asking.

"Well, Fed, my darling brother, isn't that a swell question?"

"Well, Reorge, I believe it is. Now answer the question".

"We keep her of course!"

"…"

"Well, do you have a better suggestion, dear brother?" George sarcastically remarked.

"No, I just meant, how are we going to keep her". Fred responded, casting a small glance towards Hermione who was now happily tugging on his robes –again, how did she get down? "We can't just take her with us". He made sure to emphasize the words, strongly.

Sighing, George picked up the little bundle from his brother's robes and placed her right in front of his twin. His hands were right under her arms (they finally decided after multiple attempts that they could pick her up in that manner without causing either sides any serious injuries) and the blouse she had on earlier acted as a makeshift dress which ended slightly below her knees. Hermione instantly pouted, her cheeks puffed out cutely in defiance, as she felt tugged away from the soft fabric she was contentedly clutching (swinging on, rather).

"Reorge…?" She questioned with a soft tentative voice. Once again, she tilted her head to the side and peered at him with the same large owlish eyes.

"Are you suggesting we just abandoned her?" George asked with mock sadness as he placed her increasingly closer to Fred's face. Fred couldn't help but blush again and he felt his ears go hot under her stare. Why did she have to have such big eyes!

"No, you know what I meant…"

George lifted one brow and brought little Hermione closer. "Fed…"

Feeling like the biggest jerk in the world, Fred sighed and shoved a hand through his disheveled red locks. "We can't t-take her…"

"Fed…"

"We c-can't h-hide her!" For Godric's sake, he was stuttering!

"Fed…"

He felt his resolve slipping away.

"Fed…!" She pouted.

"W-what if M-mum finds ou-…"

Hermione was freely swinging her legs as George still held her up and her small tiny hands reached out towards Fred as she smiled, her cheeks dimpling slightly. "Fed…!"

"I mean we could always send her to an orphanage for the time being…" George started uncertainly.

"Blimey, no!" Fred quickly shouted, looking appalled at the idea.

"But what are we going to do then?" George asked with a knowing smirk.

"Er…well, we have to take her with us". Fred admitted, hanging his head in defeat and remorse for almost forcing the little – adorable – kid into an orphanage.

"Yep! Isn't it great when you agree with me?"

Hermione answered for him with a big enthusiastic nod.

Draco Malfoy was not happy. Granted, he was rarely happy, but today he was even more gloomy than usual. Dressed impeccably in black velvet robes, with a dark expression to match, he looked every inch of the handsome Death Eater his father's legacy had left him to be. Of course, that was before the Dark Lord was defeated. And by none other than the legendary Harry Potter, himself. Immediately he scowled. He was more annoyed by the irritating bespectacled wizard himself than by the thought of Voldemort's demise. Despite once claiming status as a Death Eater, Draco felt, possibly more than anybody, relieved. Once, he was tempted by the alluring seduction of the powers and glory that Voldemort had once secretly offered, but the thought of murder and blood the war had cause had cured him of such wretched lust. Now, he was no more than a man repenting for his sins of the past. Which thus caused him to grimace even more deeply.

He was no better than anyone, now. Certainly, some would consider him even more lowly than any other for his role in the war. His father's open loyalty to Voldemort had done no better good and instead ensured him time in Azkaban for his deeds. That left the Malfoy family to crumble in wake of the scorn and contempt of the wizarding world. It was no longer the rich and illustrious clan it once was. And he, Draco Malfoy, was no longer the rich and spoiled boy, he was.

And that was exactly why he was standing at the edge of Diagon Alley with a frustrated expression on his face as he paced back and forth on the stone cobbled road. Due to his family's assets being seized, for the obstruction of good, the Ministry of Magic had so kindly put it, Draco was left in need of a job. With the little money his mother had managed to stash away, he was able to rent an apartment above the Leaky Cauldron where he begrudgingly set forth to find employment. Now, three hours later, and with numerous of "No!s" to add to his resume, he was left with no other option, and he could almost shudder to even consider it, but to seek employment at the Weasley's shop.

There was no way, any possible way that he would seek for employment there! He would rather be locked in a room with a hundred hippogriffs than to ask the Weasleys for a job. His pride just wouldn't allow it.

Muttering angrily to himself, he stalked off back into the direction of Leaky Cauldron, intent on finding some other forms of employment. Perhaps he could persuade the manager to give him a job there. However, a recent picture of large man covered in bat eye soup dissuaded him of the prospect. It wasn't like it was his fault the fat jerk trip. He just merely stuck his foot a little too far to the right. He practically had to beg, and he winced as he remembered this, to not be kicked out. He couldn't request for a job now either. Perhaps, he could ask some of the other shops again. Certainly, a 'no' was not permanent? And having a size 2 pewter cauldron thrown at you didn't signify rejection. But the thought of begging again made him scowl, he was not that desperate and Draco Malfoy did not beg.

Which left him to tread irately back to where he started.

And so Draco Malfoy left the windy streets of Diagon Alley very, very unhappy.

Somewhere, a crash, a shout, and three bickering kids-er adults, were making their way noisily to the little cottage tucked near the top of the hill.

"Bloody Godric, Ginny, did you really have to push me?" Ron seethed, his hand nursing another bruise from his sister's well aim pat. Pat, my ass, that was a bloody punch.

"Well, if you hadn't taken your sweet time, I wouldn't have to usher you along!"

Frustrated, Ron bellowed, "Usher! What kind of word is that?"

"Ron, don't tell me your vocabulary is substantiated by kindergarten level words". Ginny lifted one perfect brow and crossed her arms at her chest.

"No! Of course not!" He retorted acerbically.

"You don't even know by substantiate means!" Ginny countered and gave him a small lopsided smirk, a trait she developed after one too many confrontations with the twins.

"Yes I do!" He all but whined.

"No you don't!" She taunted, skipping lightly across the dirt path.

"Yeah, I do!"

"No…you don't!"

"Yeah, I do!"

"No-"

"Hey, we're almost at the burrow!" Harry pointed out, lifting one finger to the direction of the small cozy cottage facing them. Eager to escape the inevitable fight, which Ron would inevitably lose, and would inevitably drag him in as well, he made a quick dash to the doorway, leaving the bickering siblings in a cloud of green dust.

"Hey, wait up!" Harry made sure to not look back.

A few seconds later and three panting adults pushed themselves through the doorway. Glaring at the two, Ginny patted away the imaginary specks of dust on her clothes before taking off her worn white shoes and neatly lining them against the entryway. With her waist length hair swaying and a well placed stomp, she sauntered up towards Mrs. Weasley who was busying her herself with crafting lunch in the Burrow's tidy kitchen.

'Damn'. Ron cursed under his breath as Ginny's foot collided on top of his. He gave her a quick glare before he and Harry proceeded to take of their shoes as well.

Ginny gave him another smirk. The twins really taught her well on that one.

Leaning against his best friend, Ron asked Harry in a hushed tone, "What exactly is a 'kindergarten'?"

"It's getting late".

"That was completely not obvious at all". Fred almost sounded worried.

"And that, Gred, was not sarcasm". George looked too amused.

"It's almost dinner time". Fred reminded his twin, making sure to emphasize the word dinner lest George forgot its significance. They didn't want a repeat of that.

Completely ignoring the urgency in Fred's voice, George stated coolly, "I heard Bill is coming back for dinner". After a slight pause, he added, "And Charlie too".

"Well, it doesn't really matter if they come, And- We're - Late". He punctuated every last word.

George stared back at him owlishly.

"Oh, hurry up, Rrrreorge!" Fred snipped loudly, irritation laced tightly into his tone as he walked briskly across the front of the shop and diligently picked up the stray whizbangs on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, don't yell. I can hear you perfectly well". George waved a large hand in front of him as if to wave off the words.

"We have to tidy up", Fred responded, slightly unnerved by using that one particular word. It didn't feel right coming out of his mouth and he felt an unsettled sensation coiling in the pit of his stomach as if he had broken some sacred oath. Silently, he placed a hand over his heart, and quickly asked for forgiveness while he placed the misplaced whizbangs on their shelf. He slowed and paused for just a moment to toss Hermione, who was sitting amicably in a chair they had managed to transfigure, a daydream charm. She caught the trinket with a bell like giggle, and smiled broadly. He fought back another blush. Hastily, he scoured the shop again. "Mum is going to kill us if we're late". And if we're lucky, that's all she'll kill us for.

Ignoring that statement, George watched his twin move hurriedly about in an amused manner as he leaned carelessly against the stair banisters. Making sure his face was set in a tight grimace, and that his lips were not twitching, he added as casually as he could, "You know, I think I almost saw Draco".

"Draco?" Fred didn't miss a beat and continued arranging the canary creams on the shelf.

George blinked twice. "Yeah, he was standing near Borgin's & Burkes. He almost looked like he was glaring at us".

"I can't imagine why". Moving onto the toffee, Fred made sure the perilous candy was stacked neatly in the jars.

"I mean we only put his dad in Azkaban, made his life miserable, and pranked him…once or twice". George sounded entirely too cheerful.

"Why would Draco Malfoy be here?" Fred picked up a rolling telescope near the corner of the shop.

"How in Merlin's name should I know? It's not like I'm chummy with him or whatnot". He was still eyeing his twin brother. Maybe all the smoke from their last experiment finally caught up to him. Then tossing little Hermione a small smirk, which she returned, he called out, "You missed a spot", and pointed to a far corner of the shop. Fred busily went to inspect it.

Waiting until Fred reached the far end, "You know, you could just use magic", George pointed out with a raise brow. His grin was still firmly in place.

Fred froze. George made sure he was close enough to cup his hands over Hermione's ears.

"Oh, Harry dear, would you mind passing me the carrots? No not those. The chopped ones" She pointed to the pile of orange squares at his right. "Ah, yes, those right there. Thank you, dear".

"No problem Mrs. Weasley", Harry replied politely, and added an extra head bow to show his respectfulness.

Ron smiled sweetly, "Mum, would like any help?"

"Oh, thank you dear, but I'm almost done".

Ginny nodded in relief. Nodding to Harry, the three were about to slip away when-

"I'm so hungry!" Bill proclaimed his entrance loudly. Shuffling into the kitchen, he sauntered to the table, not noticing the narrowed eyes sent his way. Ron and Harry gulped quietly. Their relief was quick to disappear.

"So… what's for dinner?" Bill asked, a little too enthusiastically as he patted his stomach with longing. Ginny nudged his feet with a warning glare.

"But I'm so hung-" Another nudge.

Those eyes were practically slits.

Her brother stubbornly, and stupidly, continued, "I'm hungr-"

"William!"

"Er- I can stir the soup…?"

"Please do". Patting her hands on her meticulously white apron, Molly Weasley smiled at her oldest son and passed him a heavy ladle as Harry, Ron and Ginny nervously laughed.

There were few things that could get Mrs. Weasley riled up. One was the twins. Two was the mention of said twins within any physical, literal, or metaphorical sense of mischief (though one would've thought that after 19 years, she would at least get used to it). And three, was the Weasley Dinner, which anyone, who cared to live peacefully that is, made sure to dutifully attend.

Always, the charming hostess, Mrs. Weasley was a generous and gracious person. To Harry and Hermione, she was like their second mother. However, dinner was the one event she refused to tolerate any improper behavior. Even the twins, known for their mischief, knew better than to cross her at that time of day. She was practically like a bear out of hibernation. Of course, they took thorough care not to let her know that.

Turning to the other three occupants of the room, she gave them a small smile.

"I'll chop the onions".

"I'll cut the lettuce".

"I'll wash the egg…?"

She nodded amiably. Then turning and setting her sights back to the roast at the middle of the counter top, Mrs. Weasley mused casually, "Where are the twins?"

"errr…" Ginny decided the best course of action was quiet submission.

Delicately taking out a knife from her apron, she sharpened it along the edges of another knife. "I've sent Hermione to get them, but I haven't heard from them at all".

The three men followed Ginny's example of silence.

"I hope they're not giving her too much trouble". This she said as she jabbed the knife through the roast.

"Ac-choo!"

"Damn, bloody dust". Fred grumbled, sniffling slightly as he scratched his nose.

"My, aren't you in a hurry".

"Well, I apologize, but I rather not be murdered so young". Fred gave George an amused but pointed look as he carefully turned to Hermione.

"Mum is more likely to torture you than kill you". George corrected his twin with an even tone.

"And how is that suppose to make me feel reassured?" Fred lifted one brow. Placing his hands under Hermione's arms, he picked her up as gently as he could and settled her at his hip with one arm wrapped behind her.

Turning to the front of the shop, George started, "Well-"and immediately quieted.

"What, George?"

"…"

"Forge?" Fred paced back to where George was standing, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

"…"

"Reorge?"

Hermione gave George a slight poke in the cheek.

"…" Another poke.

No response.

Growling, Fred gave his brother a slight tap on the head.

Blinking dazedly, George turned to his twin. "Fred…" George muttered softly, unsurely, if Fred hadn't been looking at him, he wouldn't have realized George said anything at all.

"Yes, George?" Fred turned to him in confusion, his arm still beneath Hermione who sat pleasantly on the crook of his elbow.

George chose to not reply and instead pointed weakly to a small pile at the base of the counter. His face was deathly pale as if all the color had suddenly rush out of him. Even his hair seemed whiter than usual.

Fred gave him anther confused look.

Squeaking slightly, George pointed to the untidy pile again. His eyes were still unblinking.

Tilting his head to the side, Fred looked at the pile again. Clothes? It was just Hermione's clot- and realization finally dawned on him.

He nearly groaned in frustration.

Because there, staring at them from the upswept stone floor, amidst the muddled pile of robes and clothes was a pair of dainty pink undergarments.

A/N: Alright. Done… FINALLY. Now excuse me as I go pound my head against a wall (as an apology for the numerous of grammar mistakes somewhere in there and for the ooc-ness) Also, I'm really sorry that there really wasn't much progress to this chapter. It's more of a filler to introduce everything, and is meant just to set the tone. Truthfully, I don't really even know what I was doing concerning this chapter. I re-edited it so many times, (and un re-edited too), that I can hardly tell what's in the chapter and what's not. (I blame this on sleep deprivation and mindless hours of calculus). I nearly cringed at my sad excuse for humor in this chapter.

*pounds head again

*seconds later

Moving on, I want to say "Thank you!" to everyone who's been reading my story so far and have been putting up with my horrible updating schedule. It means a lot to me that people are reading my story and are actually happy with it!

So THANKS!

Hopefully, I can get to updating more… but I make no promises with school looming over my head. *Seriously tempted to burn physics book