Delivery Girl

"Hermione."

Hermione looked up from her book. She was curled up in an old comfortable armchair in the Weasley's living room. Both Ron and Harry had been pestering her to play Quidditch with them. When she had finally threatened to hex their brooms into books had they stopped, giving her offended looks.

Now she had the house to herself, well and Mrs. Weasley was here, with a strange gleam in her eye right now.

"Yes?"

The older woman moved forward and smiled, "Would you do me a favor, dear?"

Hermione closed her book with an internal sigh, "Yes, of course, Mrs. Weasley. What do you want me to do?"

"Would you be a dear and take these to Fred? He's been holed up in his shop all day and George tells me he's been so busy that he hasn't had time to have more than breakfast. So I whipped him up a little something."

She beamed at Hermione, "And I packed lunch for two so that you two can share it."

Hermione froze. Oh, no.

"Really Mrs. Weasley, it's not what you think. Fred and I are -" She tried to explain, weakly, but was interrupted, "Nonsense, dear. I'm very happy for the two of you. I just think that you should have a little more control," Her disapproving tone changed instantly when she noticed the distress on the girl's face and spoke hastily, "Not that it is any of our business."

Hermione really wanted to cry.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything that would make Mrs. Weasley believe that there was nothing going on between her and Fred when his look alike strolled into the kitchen, holding a small tub and spoon.

He grinned at Hermione and then nudged her aside to sit in her seat, licking his spoon, unconcernedly.

"You'd better hurry, Hermione. Fred's waiting."

Hermione glared at him, "Why can't you takeit? And if Fred is working so hard, why are you lazing off?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled with delight, "Oh look at you, so worried about Fred. Go on then. You guys take some time for yourselves." She pushed the packed lunch into Hermione's hands and bustled off into the kitchen.

"Oh, Fred. You're so dashing!" George spoke to the spoon and then started kissing its curved surface loudly.

"Pig."

George just waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione just glared at him and grabbed some floo powder.

Fred wasn't expecting a disgruntled Hermione to march in his store and give him a furious glare. He had been flipping through the magazine, idly. Business had been particularly slow today. And George had decided to take off to God knew where.

So when Hermione walked in with what looked like food, he was not sure whether to be happy for company or wary that he had a very angry witch in his shop.

"Your mother thinks I'm a tramp."

"Hey, Granger."

"Your mother and George," Her lip curled up at his twin's name, "Sent you lunch and, apparently, me."

Fred scratched his head, "Well, I can eat the food but what am I supposed to do with you?"

Hermione blushed and spluttered.

Fred conjured up some plates and utensils and started dishing out food for himself, "Help yourself."

Grumbling under her breath, she filled up her plate and started poking at her food.

Fred grinned as he watched her attack her food. Bad tempered little kitten wasn't she.

"Stop staring at me."

Fred rested his chin in the palm f his hand and winked at her, "You're cute, Granger."

Hermione's head lifted, startled and her face turned red before she ducked down and dug into her food in silence, pointedly ignoring her.

However, the tips of her ears remained red.

Something Fred found very interesting.

A.N: The lack of reviews is a little disheartening. Or maybe I'm just down today because the weather is so weird.