Title: Puerile

Rating: T for innuendoes, language, and possibly disturbing scenes

Disclaimer: According to Wikipedia, somebody named J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

A/N: Gasp! I updated.

Warning: A five year old Hermione, a disgruntled Draco Malfoy, and Weasley twins on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Must I say more?

Chapter 4: Hide and Seek

"Ow!"

"Bugger off".

Ginny smiled pleasantly as she inconspicuously settled her foot on top of Fred's and gave it a good stomp. Pausing for a second, she kicked his ankle for good measure. There were certain benefits to being seated far away from Mrs. Weasley. Besides since she couldn't hex them, she would have to settle for these "softer" attacks. She did it all while beaming Harry an innocent smile.

"You know, where's Hermione?" Her tone turned accusatory as she twisted her neck to settle her eyes on the twins.

Fred stiffened and choked to keep from spewing a mouthful of soup onto the table, spewing was very bad manners he had been told, "I haven't seen her at all." He gave her what he hoped was a believable smile; however his face was changing slightly green and red as he breathed in air heavily through his nose. What in the bloody world was in that soup? "At all", he insisted again.

"Yep! Not at all" George answered rapidly behind, chuckling nervously as he saw Ginny blatantly ignoring their silent pleas.

Taking a large bite of melon bread, and chewing thoughtfully, "Yet she wouldn't be late…" Ginny trailed off.

"Not the slightest! Yep, we have absolutely, positively, no idea in Merlin's name where in the world she could possibly be!" Fred finished with a slight laugh as he awkwardly turned his eyes sideways, fingering the tip of his spoon as he saw the corners of Mrs. Weasley's mouth twitched downward. Her usual warm brown eyes sparked in suspicion as she placidly sipped at the swirling soup. Bill and Charlie snickered behind their cups of pumpkin juice, glass clinking and juice frothing with movement over the rims, but with another well aimed kick from their beloved sister, they quickly ducked their heads down as Mrs. Weasley's eyes sharpened towards them. They could (and most certainly would) laugh at the twins' expense later.

"I mean, yeah we reall-gahh!" George stuffed a large piece of pumpkin bread into his mouth; Fred sputtered.

"What Freddie here means to say is that we haven't even had the smallest sight of Hermione" George spoke hastily and offered a smile; silently praying to every single deity he could conjure up that his voice did not crack. Jumping hippogriffs, and howling werewolves, for all that is bloody holy!

Settling down her fork, and nodding thoughtfully to the side, Mrs. Weasley responded softly, "Didn't you see her? I sent her to get you two after all." The twins gulped simultaneously.

"N-not at all".

"Crying mandrakes! That was bloody awful!" George turned to Fred as he locked the brilliantly bright orange door behind him. (He paused for only a second to admire the –theirs actually- lovely handiwork).

Fred gave him an apathetic glance and rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Awful? At least you didn't have to sit next to Ginny! I swear that little snipe nearly poked a hole through my shin!" He then ran a hand through his tangled hair before making his way decidedly to the far end of the room where the bundle of their troubles giggled loudly.

Upside down.

On the bloody ceiling.

Fred stopped himself from slapping his face against the floor. For the love of Merlin, how did she even manage that!

"Mione-er Hermione…?"

The walls ranged with another bout of giggles as she swung absentmindedly. Her knees were hooked along a thin wooden beam that ran across the top of their room, and her body was positioned so that she was hung inverted… ten freaking feet above the heavily cluttered floor. She waved to them with stiff jarring movements, huffing slightly to get the strands of thick brown hair out of her eyes. "Fed! Fwed!" She gave him a brilliant smile, her frantic waving jerking her body back and forth as her hair hung like a thick curtain of fur.

Fred sighed. George quickly bounded across the bed, and stood next to his twin with a look of resignation. Was this what they called karma?

"Hermione…how did you get up?" he asked her gently, wincing slightly as she swung a particularly violent lurch forward.

Hermione gave them an amused look and settled her arms to her side as she kicked her right leg backwards, shifting her momentum slightly higher. This playground was fun. Then nibbling her lower lip tentatively, her face screwed up in childlike wonder, she replied curiously, "Wup where?"

George swallowed his impatience and pointed to the ceiling, "Wup there', he mimicked her pronunciation.

"Here?" She imitated his gesture, and pointed to the beam she was situated on.

"Yes".

"I wumped!"

George shared a confused look with his twin and echoed in a puzzled tone, "wumped?"

"mmhmm! Wumped". She nodded pointedly, and attempted to raise an eyebrow. Well, it looks like she didn't forget that, Fred mentally noted.

George returned her look with his own set of upraised brows, "and how exactly did you…wumped?"

Hermione brightened at his question, and parted her lips to answer. George waited for her response but before she sounded out her reply, she gave him an enthusiastic grin. She would show him. Quickly, with nimble reflexes and an agile grace that on any other given day, and certainly situation, the twins would have admired, she unhooked her knees from the creaky beam and fell.

Fell.

Fell.

Fell.

The twins felt twenty years of their lives seeped out.

With a thud, she flipped forward and landed wobbly on her feet. Then she ambled, her gait still unsteady, towards the clothes strewn bed to the left. A large red "F" adorned the blue covers which were scrunched up to one side, revealing layers of cloth, parchment, and books (and something that was suspiciously blue). She grabbed the thick covers with small tugs, and after a few seconds of grunts and kicks, she pulled herself onto the soft cushions. "I wumped!" she declared with bursting enthusiasm and she emphasized "wumped" by bending her knees and kicking off the bed. The highly –why- the-bloody-hell-was-it-that-bouncy- bed.

Fred and George were deathly silent. She wumped indeed….

"Something's off"

"Something's always off. This is where the twins live, remember?" Harry drawled with lazy gestures, as if the point was entirely too obvious. Lying with his back against the rugged floor of the burrow's warm living room, he turned to Ginny who was pacing back and forth with dizzying movements. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Ron shuffling closer to the green flames in the stone enameled fireplace; the edges of the embers licked and snapped at the charred wooden logs, which never actually burned of course. He counted off the ticks of the clock and pulled at his sweater uneasily, his green eyes darkening as they focused on Ginny.

She sighed and rolled her eyes as she puffed her cheeks wearily, "You know what I mean". She brushed off the imaginary dust off her skirt again, and decidedly began to pace as before. Harry counted her movements, and just as he got to four, he sat up, crossing his legs beneath him, and laid his cheek against his palm. Eight, nine, ten, now.

"Something's definitely off". She narrowed her eyes, Mum had only said no magic during dinner. Not after. Cocking her head to one side, as tapped her wand musingly to her chin, she loudly questioned the other two, "Besides, isn't it weird that Hermione wasn't at dinner?"

Ron nodded; everyone knew what a Weasley dinner meant. And he was certain Hermione hadn't gone barmy – or suicidal- yet. He turned to Harry, who was resettling his glasses straight, and his sister. Without gesturing they all sighed in unison, "twins".

"Fed"

He was close to going mental.

"Fed?"

"Yes?" He asked with exasperation, a tired and frustrated edge apparent in his voice. He could still hear the blood pumping wildly in his ears; the symptoms of his mini-heart attack still clung heavily to his fatigue. Voldemort and Death eaters be damned. This little girl, he chuckled bitterly at that, little, was going to be the death of him. He was going to either die from panic, stress, or mind-numbingly cute antics, or even likelier, all three. Or, he looked at George; he would go off his rockers. He frowned thoughtfully, white did not look good on him.

Smile disappearing, Hermione flinched at the cold steel in his voice and looked away. She could feel the moisture bubble at the bottom of her lashes and held back a sniffle. Immediately feeling a wave of guilt hit him, Fred forced a small smile hoping it would placate her, "Sorry, Hermione. I'm just tired", He told her sincerely, hoping that she wouldn't cry. Anything but that. He shifted slightly towards her, settling her on his knees as he patted her back with reassurance.

Immediately, Hermione smiled broadly in understanding and toothily shouted, "thas' okay, Fed!". Then, nodding brightly, she clasped her tiny hands onto his and gave them a slight squeeze before patting his head lightly in a manner as if she was trying to appease a lost puppy. It only made him feel even guiltier.

Smiling ruefully, Fred ruffled her hair, "So what was it you want to tell me?"

"Rell, I-er" Fred chucked as she mixed up her Ws.

"Hermione, didn't we tell you? 'Er' isn't a word". He couldn't help but smirk at her rosy cheeks.

Glancing at him nervously and too embarrassed to speak, she placed her small hands against her tummy and gave him a bashful look.

"Huh?" Fred frowned, "Is there something wrong with your tummy?" He mirrored her head tilt and looked at George.

She started to shake her head but then after a few moments of hesitation she gave him a quizzical look as if she wasn't entirely sure. Her tummy was rumbling. And loudly as well. Hermione blushed cutely and looked sideways. She muttered something softly beneath her breath and turned her face down in embarrassment. Worried, George scooted closer to the blushing little girl.

"Is there something wrong, 'mione?"

"I-I'm hun-" she trailed off.

"Hermione?"

"I-I am hungry" she stuttered out quietly.

Fred looked at George who cursed.

Shit.

They just forgot to feed a child.

"Shut it Fred! You're bloody noisy!"

"Me! For Godric's sake, you sounded as if you were carrying Fluffy and Snape down the stairs!"

Fred hissed back the insult with clenched lips as he tugged lightly at Hermione's hand. Guiding the little girl down the winding stairs, he hovered for a second as she steadied herself with each step. They were just about to make it safely to the bottom floor of the burrows, when he winced as she stepped on a particularly creaky floorboard. Instead of quickly jumping off of it as he hoped -because nothing ever does-, she squealed happily, and loudly, and rolled back on the heels of her feet, extracting another high pitched creak from the old decrepit stairs.

She giggled with amusement as George quickly attempted to silence the groaning furniture, while Fred was fighting off another heart attack. Someone up there must be laughing at them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure his mum had intentionally made the stairs so horribly, suspiciously creaky.

He had scoffed at the rather lame attempt – or should he say attempts- his parents made to curb their spontaneous tendencies. The squealing hinges, the stiff locks, the too soft beds (which he had to admit were taxingly hard to get out of). But they weren't genius for nothing; they had long since figured out careful methods to sneak out. If they could sneak through Hogwarts undetected, the Burrows was simply a child's game. And besides, quidditch was so much more exciting at night, when they don't lose the bludgers that is. But, her, this little and shouldn't-be-little girl was completely and utterly making things entirely too maddening. The stairs creaked again.

"Hermione" he sighed, patting her head, "don't" and he paused "…wump". Staring at him with large owlish eyes, she pouted but nevertheless nodded enthusiastically; her hair whipping around her frantically. He felt his cheeks growing warm as she gave him another one of her brilliant grins. Oh, bloody Merlin, somebody definitely is laughing at him. He tugged at her lightly again, and pulled her gently in the direction of the kitchen.

George sighed in relief as Hermione bounded off the abominable stairs, and gesture to Fred with quick jerking movements to Ginny's room, situated happily right above the kitchen. Fred didn't reply, but shrugged and kept walking in the kitchen's direction.

She was hungry, and he would be damned if he let her starve.

"There must be some food", he exclaimed frustratedly. Settling Hermione on the kitchen counter, he circled around the small but tidy island to the pantries near the stairs. George followed his twin, and proceeded to ransack through the cabinets above the sink. They both grimaced when they returned to the eager little girl empty-handed.

"Maybe we should make her something?" George suggested. He turned to Hermione and patted her head affectionately. Hermione in returned giggled, her large doe eyes twinkling as she smiled cutely in contentment. George blushed faintly, turning his eyes back to Fred who also sported a similarly flush. Bloody Godric, she was adorable. "A sandwich perhaps?"

"After the incident?" Fred reminded with upraised brows.

"Oh right, that" George inclined his head in affirmation of the memory, and shuddered. They would never let Harry make another sandwich again. He may have killed Voldemort but damn it, how in bloody hell did he mixed hot sauce?

Fred tore his eyes from Hermione and glanced tiredly at the ceiling, "We'll just find her something. Some left-overs perhaps".

George nodded, mussing Hermione's hair a tad with a slight ruffle, before turning back to his twin, "I think there's some –"

A noise shuffled into the burrow's kitchen.

"What are you two doing?"

Fred cursed. Hermione giggled.

"Or should I say three…?"

A/N:

Okay, okay, so I know I promised two weeks… b-but! *face slams in frustration* There was an actual legitimate reason.

I crashed my computer. Yep, that deathly heart-attack inducing moment when everything just deletes itself while the black screen just laughs in your face. After losing everything… three years of documents, ideas, pictures, everything (because of course, life sucks and the backup disc refused to work too), I just didn't had the heart to continue…

So this chapter is slightly (probably really, actually) different from how it was supposed to be. But anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed. It makes me unbelievably happy to know that I'm doing at least something right.

Next chapter Snippet:

"Oh my bloody Merlin! You knocked some girl up!"

Fred flushed and sputtered indignantly, "I-I did not! It's Hermione!"

Bill gasped and pointed a shaking finger at the familiar little girl with curly brown hair.

….

…

..

.

George palmed his face and muttered beneath his breath as he covered Hermione's ears.

"You knocked Hermione up?"

…oh Bill… xD