Chapter 6

When Ron and Harry finally left for work Hermione sat back with a sigh. She was satisfied with their morning's efforts; the paper before her was littered with markings on jobs she intended to apply for – after all, who could refuse one of the heroes of the war?

A quick glance down at her house elf revealed the tiny creature was still asleep in her box, where they had managed to settle her after breakfast. She pushed back from the table quietly and went for a much needed shower, feeling far more optimistic about her day than when she had woken up earlier. Harry's determination and Ron's eager insistence that she was thoroughly employable had been a much needed boost to her ego.

The gentle spray at the perfect temperature massaged her tense muscles and relaxed her in seconds. She groaned in delight and proceeded to wash out her tangled curls, feeling more and more human as the minutes ticked by. The scent of shampoo still made her slightly aroused, a leftover from more than one romp in the shower with her favourite twins, her personal favourite encounter being just a month before, on Saint Patrick's Day.

With a heaving sigh she replayed the night over and over in her head, remembering the feel of their bodies pressed intimately against every part of her in the illegal night club. Her favourite part about being with them was that they had the ability to make her forget where they started and she ended, their presences still managing to overwhelm her even after months of being intimate.

She cut the water and groped along the wall to reach her towel, pulling it into her and stepping out of the steam and into the much cooler morning air. Shivering slightly, she hurried to dress in a red silk shirt, tucking it into a flared black skirt – she had a fabulous pair of heels to match that Ginny had encouraged her to buy and only pulled out on special occasions. Making her way into her room, she found a neat black cape and threw it over her shoulders, wanting to show off the outfit instead of hiding it beneath her usual robes.

Feeling refreshed and ready to start the day, she gripped the folder containing her resume, tucked the paper under her arm and almost walked out the door when she realised she was forgetting something.

"Now what am I going to do with you?" she whispered down at the elf when she re-entered the kitchen. The elf continued to sleep on.

"You could take her to Mum," a voice said from behind her. She jumped in fright and turned on her intruder.

"Fred! What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too; and may I say you are looking simply ravishing today my love," he teased, stepping forward and sweeping her into his arms dramatically.

"You can say it, but I don't have time to be ravished; so keep your hands to yourself," she laughed, pulling away from temptation and straightening her cape.

"What is a slave to do when his Mistress doesn't want him anymore?" he sighed dramatically, flopping into one of the kitchen chairs and dropping his head to the table in mock defeat.

"I'm sure you can figure that out on your own. Or better yet, ask your mother, I am sure she has a hundred and one jobs for you to do," she suggested with a smile, leaning down to kiss the patch of freckles on his neck and rubbing his back soothingly.

"Is that your way of asking me to take our little elf to my mother?" he mumbled, turning his head to look at her with one eye open.

"You know me too well. You don't mind do you?" Hermione gave her most pleading smile, using what little charms she had acquired from spending too many years in a dorm full of boy obsessed girls. Lavender would have been proud of her.

"Not at all, that's what being a slave is all about," he said, his grin returning. Without warning he jumped from his chair and swept her into his arms again, planting a firm kiss on her lips.

Hermione stood there stunned when in almost the same movement, he swept down, picked up the elf and apparated on the spot. She frowned wondering just why he had been over in the first place, but decided it could wait until another day. Whatever it had been couldn't have been too important.

Approaching the fireplace she tugged at the small pouch of floo powder pinned to the lining of her cape. Taking a fortifying breath she focused on the flames and shouted her destination.

The Leaky Cauldron was eerily quiet at this time of day; even the regulars had yet to make an appearance; but then she supposed most people started drinking at lunch time and the Leaky's food wasn't exactly gourmet either. Morning light made an attempt to pierce the grim of the front windows that had once showed London's bustling Muggle population.

Hermione's gaze swept the room out of habit but she only found a young wizard, barely out of Hogwarts, standing behind the bar polishing glasses with a large dish rag. He smiled in greeting and Hermione returned the gesture before hurrying out the back door into the brilliant sunshine.

She tapped the correct sequence of bricks and hurried through to the cobblestone streets of Wizarding London. There were more people milling about than she had expected and a quick glance at her watched showed that it was just on morning tea time and many of the Ministry employees were enjoying the sun and refreshing break the open alley offered.

Chewing her lip for a moment she came to the realization that trying to apply for a job at the busiest time of the day probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. In her experience, if you weren't buying something then people weren't interested in you.

Stopping to grab a coffee from a near by vendor she meandered slowly down the alley until she came to the joke shop. They, like everywhere else seemed to be in the midst of the rush and for a few short moments she thought about continuing on and not bothering them. A look down at the folder tucked under her arm was a sharp reminder that she didn't really have any other pressing place to be and with that she pushed into the shop and started to look around for a familiar red head or two.

What she found instead was a long line of irritated customers waiting to be served at the empty counter and a flurry of red fur and yellow feathers near one of the back aisles followed by the sounds of several hysterical woman and the shouts of men trying to take control. However Fred and George were nowhere to be found.

Taking a deep fortifying breath Hermione did the one thing she was good at – taking control.

Pushing her way through the agitated customers she made her way to the front counter no worse for wear. Dumping her portfolio next to her coffee, she faced the register and gave a determined nod, more to herself than the red faced portly man waiting to buy a fake wand.

"I'm so sorry about the wait sir," she apologized smoothly, "how may I help you today?"

The man merely grunted and shoved his purchase across the counter. Hermione stared at it a moment, turned to look at the cash register as if it held all the answers of the world and then back to the product again. Nothing happened.

"Well, get on with it girl. Some of us actually return to work when our breaks are over," a shrewish witch who was next in line snapped.

"Right, right, sorry," she apologized again, picking up her wand and trying to remember the motions she had watched the twins go through a thousand times. Waving her wand over the product a deep blue glow followed its tip; she knew she must have been doing something right then so she took the tip of her wand and tapped the cash register. The price appeared on the little screen and she smiled to herself. This wasn't so hard after all.

"That will be seven sickles thank you sir," she smiled sweetly, holding out her hand for the proffered coins. The man payed with another grunt and pushed his way back out of the store. Hermione took a moment to drink deeply from her coffee before turning to face the next customer.

In the next fifteen minutes Hermione made her way through all the waiting customers and was feeling very proud of herself. A glance toward the back aisles showed the earlier ruckus was over and whatever had been wrong was obviously solved. She smiled when George emerged and approached her.

"Where have you been?" she asked, taking in his disheveled appearance and slightly wonky grin.

"A kid tried to steal a canary cream and the cat his mother carries around didn't seem to agree with his thieving ways," he explained, leaning against the counter, still giving her the funny grin.

"Is he okay now?" Hermione asked, "And where is Fred? I thought some of your customers were going to start throwing hexes at me!"

"Fred went to visit you, but didn't come back," George said, his grin fading as he frowned.

"Oh, Molly must be holding him up. I'm sorry George, that's partly my fault, I asked him to take my elf to your mother," she admitted guiltily.

"I suppose I could find it in myself to forgive you – for a price," he said, that same grin returning. It was Hermione's turn to frown.

"What kind of a price?" she asked suspiciously.

"A kiss?" he said quietly, leaning over the counter to take her lips. Hermione sighed, parting her mouth to accept his tongue, which made broad sweeps of her teeth and dueled with her own tongue in the process.

Hermione bought her hands up to clutch his head to hers, falling deeper into the all consuming kiss. A rush of flames and a pointedly cleared throat caused them to break apart with a gasp moments later.

"I leave you alone for two minutes and this is what I find," Fred teased, stepping out of the fireplace against the far wall and brushing off his robes. "Sorry I missed the rush George. Mum had me up in the attic looking for Percy's baby photos for some reason."

"No problems. Hermione here managed to cope with the rush all on her own," George told his brother with pride.

"It was nothing, really," she said modestly, hiding her blush behind her coffee as Fred's face lit up.

"It's more than nothing!" Fred exclaimed, "You really helped us out. Let us repay you," he offered and Hermione choked on her sip of coffee.

"Oh no, not today. I can't let you two distract me; I have to start handing out my resumes before the lunch time rush comes around,"

"Why do that?" Fred said suddenly, looking at George rather than her.

"Yeah, you've already proven yourself capable," George told her.

"You could work for us-"

"-Save yourself the trouble." Both men looked at her expectantly, waiting for her willing acceptance.

Hermione almost said yes, almost. It would make life so much easier, to accept a job with the twins and not have to bother with endless interviews and having to explain exactly why she had left her last job. Not to mention the worry she would go through after getting the job, wondering if they had hired her based on her capabilities or her role throughout the war.

"Look guys, I'm flattered, really…" she began, feeling guilty already.

"But no?" George asked, giving her a sad smile.

"Things are already complicated enough," she sighed, dumping her empty coffee cup in the bin under the counter and picking up her portfolio, all the time refusing to meet their eyes.

"That's okay, we understand. Just remember, the offer stands," Fred offered.

"Thank you," she said, kissing first Fred and then George's cheek before leaving the store.

"Drop by when you do find a job!" George called after her and she nodded her head in response already focused on the task at hand. Determined to find a job by the end of the day she set off with a new found confidence – if she could charm a line of angry customers then she could do anything.

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