Hello everyone!

I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting. I lost my muse last month but she has decided to grace me with her presence and company so here is the revised version of the story for you! I hope you enjoy it! Please leave behind reviews! They're always appreciated.

NB: I've done a one-shot on the prank Hermione plays on both Fred and George in Fool For No One. It can be a sequel to the Prologue of this story. Check it out!

Hermione Granger bustled around her bedroom, picking out suitable eveningwear for Harry's Christmas Party. At her dresser, Hermione's fingers found a small tarnished object in the far corner of her drawer and pulled it out. The locket was in a shape of a cat with unnaturally long silver whiskers who was currently asleep. On other days, the cat would stretch and prowl about the length of the chain. Some days, it contented itself with licking its paws and glancing ever so often at the comings and goings around it. However, it had been locked up in the dark depths of Hermione's drawer for more than a decade that it had decided to go into hibernation.

Hermione stroked the tarnished silver cat but it merely continued to sleep. It had no patience for an owner who took it out once every few years to admire it.

"What's that you've got there?" Ron appeared by the doorway of their room.

"Nothing." Hermione placed it on the vanity. The cat stirred and opened an eye to glance at Hermione.

"I don't remember you having that."

"I've always had it."

Ron stood at the entrance to their room and watched his wife of forty-four years carass the tarnished silver object in her hand. The two of them had helped to rebuild the wizarding world that had been destroyed by Voldemort's dark reign but the bright yellow wallpaper and gradual extensions of their room were reflective of the life they had built together after the war. The small vanity by her side of the bed was an addition in their early thirties, he had levitated it up the staircase of their newly built house after he had received a promotion. The extended walk-in closet was added to the room when Hermione was at the height of her career as the Head of Department of the Magical Law Enforcement, it took Hermione exactly two hours to magically enhance the room to include her walk in closet and took Ron two days to build the closet walls. Every little detail in their room marked a time period in their lives and Ron was glad it had turned out the way it had despite the many bouts of depression and insecurities that threatened to tear their marriage apart. Somehow, between the forty years of matrimony and family life, Ron wanted to believe that he and Hermione had created something precious and momentous. But the look on her face as she descended the ladder and the way she held the photograph in her hand like a precious artifact planted doubts in Ron's mind.

"Do you think, if Fred had lived, things would have been different?" He finally managed to swallow the lump in his throat and voice this same question to his wife, as he had a thousand times in their time together.

"How many times have we been through this, Ron?" Hermione sighed as she clipped on the pearl earrings Ginny had gotten her last Christmas.

"This will be the last time," Ron promised as she picked out her coat.

"Ron, I don't know how many times I must say this. There is no point in contemplating the possibilities of that particular situation. It does no one any good."

There was a long pause. Both husband and wife held each other's gaze, one trying to probe for any indication of love while the other pleading that the subject be dropped and spoken about no more for it wounded her beyond measure to see so little trust between the two of them.

"Would you have picked me?" Ron asked finally.

"That's a ridiculous question." Hermione looked hurt so Ron nodded at her answer. He was resigned to the speculations that had surrounded his subconscious since Fred's untimely death at the Battle of Hogwarts nearly sixty years ago.

Hermione watched his retreating back and sighed. It was no use trying to reconcile the what ifs and could have beens. But the image of a red head wearing an Irish Shamrock hat smiling at her kept appearing in her minds eye despite the many attempts to wipe it out of mind. Hermione conceded to indulge herself for she had long suppressed those memories and she closed her eyes.

Hermione Granger had never been to a Quiddich match outside of school. She had no connections whatsoever to the magical world outside her school life and it made her slightly uncomfortable when Ron or Ginny mentioned something like Quiddich World Cup or Hollyhead Harpies. You see, Hermione was a muggle-born, meaning a witch that had non-magical parents, who grew up listening to stories like Cinderella and played sports like cricket and football. Not that Hermione played any sort of sports, her hand-eye coordination was simply atrocious and she was glad to be rid of any sort of compulsory physical education at Hogwarts. She was thankful that the school did not give Malfoy another reason to taunt her.

She had been teased and bullied enough at Hogwarts, thank you very much. So, naturally when a small fluffy owl carrying a letter from Ron, telling her that Mr. Weasley had gotten them all tickets to watch the Quiddich World Cup and that she was invited to stay with them for the rest of the holidays, she was taken by surprise. It was the first time Ron had invited her over to the Weasley house and the first time she had ever heard of such a thing as Quiddich World Cup and it was heartening that Ron, Ginny and their family would include her in this.

With that thought, Hermione set about packing her things for her stay at the Weasleys. She brought along a backpack, packed into her trunk with her necessities. She gazed at the wall opposite her room, which was nearly all covered with bookshelves and stacks upon stacks of books with subject topics ranging from Quantum physics to A History of Magic. Hermione glanced at the collection of paperback novels and wondered whether she would need them this year. She shook her head, silly me, of course I would need it. She began to gather them into her trunk, along with some other staple books like Hogwarts a History, History of Magic, Voyaging with Vampires, a personal favorite of hers.

Wednesday came quicker than she had imagined and she had stumbled into her fireplace and dissolved in green flames and appeared in a shabby looking living room decorated with a few tatty couches and an old rocking chair. This had been to date the most bizzare experience in her life. Seated in one of the yellow armchairs was a tall, rather handsome man with a mane of ginger hair, tied into a ponytail. He was deep in conversation with Charlie Weasley, who was still as burly and scarred as Hermione had seen in her first year if not even more so.

"Hello, you must be Hermione Granger, I'm Bill Wealsey." Bill ignored Ron and strode forward to grasp Hermione's hand. "This is Charlie, I've been told you've met."

"Lovely to see you again Hermione! You've gotten prettier!" Charlie's eyes twinkled with the same mischievousness as the twins. Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. "What's it I hear of stealing Snape's private stores?"

"Oh stop making Hermione feel uncomfortable Charlie." Ginny spoke up from behind but the second oldest brother simply ruffled her hair.

"Dinner's ready!" the matron of the Weasley household called out. "Hermione, just leave your things here, you can bring it up later." Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione a hug and led her into the kitchen.

Dinner at the Burrow was never a quiet affair. Conversation at the dinner table touched a spectrum of topics, including Percy's covert secret that his precious Mr. Crouch had been working on the past few months. Hermione was too keen to deflate Percy's ego to quench her curiosity. Although Percy and Hermione could get along fairly well with each other, Hermione did not approve of the way Percy placed himself above all others.

"Fred and George Weasley, you two had better stop leaving fake wands all over the place!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice startled Hermione from her conversation with Bill about his work in Egypt.

"Fake… wands?" Hermione queried as leaned across the table to catch a glimpse of the limp rubber chicken in Mrs. Weasley's hand.

"Amazing right?" Ron grinned. "I had been wondering what the two of them had been doing all summer, locked up in their rooms."

"Mmm…" Hermione knew immediately it was a transfigurative charm that was enchanted to activate at first touch and was not nearly as impressed as Ron was. She simply nodded stiffly in response. Fred and George were brilliant but Hermione felt that they should channel that intelligence into their education.

"Well, if you had made better use of your time, you might have done slightly better in your O.W.L.s." Percy smirked. The twins scowled at him and made rude gestures at him behind their parents' backs.

"Exactly!" Mrs. Weasley had exclaimed, turning to the twins and proceeded to give the twins a lengthy lecture on their future. And so passed the evening of Hermione's arrival.

Hermione's initial distaste for Percy's arrogance had transgressed into revulsion. The Quiddich World Cup had been enjoyable but the events that had transpired after left Hermione with a sick feeling in her gut. Wizards were starting to become no different from extremist groups. And Percy had the audacity to accuse the house elf of being disobedient. To Hermione, Percy exemplified traits that were similar to the Malfoys and their pro pure blood values and worldviews. This was discrimination at its finest and Hermione Granger had enough of it.

"She didn't run amok! She just picked it up off the ground!" Hermione shouted and the entire tent fell silent. Even Bill and Charlie were looking at Hermione warily. Mr. Weasley shook his head.

Fred had never heard Hermione shout. Exasperated and annoyed, yes. Angry? Never. For the first time in his life, Fred felt sorry for Percy. Hermione glowered at the bespectacled red head even as Ron broke the tension with his ill knowledge of the dark mark.

"Look, can someone just explain what the skull this was? Why is it such a big deal?" Ron had queried, breaking the formidable silence. After spending four years with the bushy brunette, he had learned to ignore her during her bursts of anger. This anger and impatience was not unfamiliar to Ron since it was often directed at him.

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron. I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts." Hermione had explained in an exasperated tone.

While the rest of the Weasley clan was explaining to Ron and Harry about the dark mark, Fred observed Hermione. He wondered where the bossy, arrogant girl disappeared off to. He knew Hermione was intelligent and had her own opinion about almost everything. He knew she would stand beside Harry to fight against all the evil in the world but Fred merely thought it was just Hermione doing what was right. Fred reevaluated the girl in front of him and realized there was so much to her that he never bothered to find out. He realized that for the past four years, he had seen her as his little brother's best friend, the nerd of the Gryffindor Common Room, the brightest witch of her generation but never as a defender of the weak. Through her years at Hogwarts, the way she competed to be the best was almost ruthless, putting the Ravenclaws to shame. It never made sense for anyone to suspect Hermione of defending a lowly creature such as the house elves. Fred marveled at this new discovery.

The following day, the Weasley clan, Hermione and Harry had returned to the Burrow, where they would spend the rest of the summer. Mrs. Weasley had been sending the boys on household chores every now and then; degnoming the garden, cleaning the hen coop, feeding the farm animals; while she had the girls helping her with dinner and laundry. Fred and George hardly had any time to themselves to procure any ingredients for their next range of products as well as to remake the Ton Tongue Toffees that had been confiscated the day they had left for the Quiddich World Cup.

However, Fred did chance upon Hermione behind an old oak tree in the Burrow's backyard one sunny afternoon while clearing out the gnomes. Hermione was curled up beneath the shaded canopy and was reading her Arithmancy textbook quite intently. Fred strode over and plopped down beside the brunette. She barely acknowledged his arrival.

"I was wondering when you would be coming to ask about your Weasley Wizard Wheezes." Hermione spoke up, setting her book down. Her brown eyes searched his, as if trying to decipher his true intentions. But Fred had no such objective. Not at the moment. Of course, both he and George had been discussing on how to broach the subject with Hermione because they both knew they could not fool Hermione once she was aware of WWW. All the same, they had drafted out a business plan, charted out their budget and done some publicity through their schoolmates. They did not require Hermione's assistance per se, but it would speed up their output greatly. Fred had simply wanted to talk to her but did not know how to broach a casual conversation with the brunette.

"Err…"

"The answer is no. I agree with Mrs. Weasley. You two ought to spend more time on your education." Hermione looked up at him and watched him struggle through different emotions—confusion, shock, frustration and then a glint of amusement.

"All right then, I'll not intrude on your reading." He gave a mock salute and left her under the old oak tree. He shook his head and tried to think of the next range of products for the WWW. He had to get himself together or he's sure to lose it.

Hermione must have dozed off somewhere between Fred's departure and dusk because she found herself no longer in the garden of the Burrow. Instead she was walking along the slightly familiar streets of Paris. Hermione had spent one summer in France just before commencing her third year, where she had discovered the existence of other magical communities outside Britain. But the street she was walking was no where near the magical village in Paris. She passed building after building and stopped outside a rather dilapidated church, which was boarded up. Like in all dreams, there were rarely anyone around the vicinity and Hermione could not ask passerbys about the strange church. It looked deserted but she could see a flicker of light come from the gaps of the boarded up doors.

Curiosity got the better of her and she walked toward it, almost dreamlike. The ground around the church was uneven, the cobblestone path was bumpy. As she drew nearer, she could hear chanting and the flickering of flames seem to grow brighter. Distantly, Hermione wondered whether the people gathered in the church were wizards. That would explain how they got into the church in the first place and it made sense to use such a dilapidated building since muggles would hardly venture into the premise. Just like Hogwarts, Hermione thought.

She must have been insane to peek through the holes in the wooden planks because what she saw in the church made her scream. In between the dream-like state and reality, all she could see was the remnants of a vindictive smile.