CW: Mention of teenage sexuality
The car was an old Ford Anglia, and Hermione stared.
"We'll have to cram in the back, once we get Harry, unless someone wants to ride in the boot," she commented.
Fred shrugged. "Does it matter?"
It didn't, really, and she piled in with the rest of them. Fred started the car, hit the Invisibility Booster, hit something else, and the car lifted into the air.
The ride was jerky and somewhat erratic, but the car dutifully drove up high into the sky. Hermione pointed out the most direct way to Privet Drive, and Fred took off in that direction, the car sputtering a bit and dipping for a moment before smoothing out. Hermione kept her door unlocked in case the car's flight failed and she needed to bail - she'd face better chances in gliding or flying down herself than she would trapped in a car plummeting out of the sky to certain doom.
The journey was surprisingly fun, though. The Weasley twins didn't seem to give a damn that she was in Slytherin, and they let her know it, to Ron's consternation.
"Anyone who shows up a Malfoy is okay in our books," George told her cheerfully. "Everyone heard how you beat his marks."
Hermione flushed. She was glad she'd come in first in her year, but it hadn't been like she'd been purposefully trying to show up Draco.
"All Slytherins can't be bad," Fred said. "We have some good ones in Gryffindor, but some real drips as well. Figures that Slytherin has some baby Death Eaters but has some normal kids as well."
Hermione didn't know where to even begin addressing that, so she stayed silent. The twins began to chatter about their plans for pranks the next year – a large amount focusing on Professor Snape. As funny as it might be to think of talking bottles of shampoo following her head of house around, Hermione felt traitorous laughing, and she felt compelled to speak up.
"I'd really advise against that," she said. "Of all the teachers, Professor Snape is the most likely to take it personally and seek revenge. He'd make the rest of your Hogwarts years miserable."
George raised an eyebrow at her. "You think? He's still a teacher – you think he'd go after a couple of students?"
"Teacher or not, he's still a Slytherin," Hermione pointed out. "You'd be better off targeting the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – at least that way, you know they'll be gone after a year, so their revenge can't last all that long."
The twins considered, and then grinned.
"Why not?" they chorused, and they began murmuring about new potential prank ideas.
The rest of the drive passed rapidly, and Hermione saw Privet Drive approaching.
"There!" she hissed, pointing down. "That's his house. Pull into the back!"
Ron rolled his window down as Fred carefully moved the car level with Harry's window. Hermione dug in her pack.
"Harry! Harry!"
"Ron! Ron, how did you- what the-?"
Hermione let out a breath of relief – Harry was still okay.
"All right, Harry?" George asked.
"Hermione said you didn't get my letters," Ron said. "Is that true?"
"Hermione is with you? Yeah – a House Elf was stopping all my mail. But what is-"
"We will catch up later," Hermione announced firmly. "Ron, take this, and wedge it into the bars."
She handed him a very small grappling hook. Ron stared at it, but he handed it to Harry, who took it through the bars.
"Tap it with your wand, Harry," she told him. "It's removing a spell, not casting one – it won't ping on the Ministry's system as magic."
Harry dutifully tapped it, and he suppressed a yelp as the grappling hook resized itself, wedging itself firmly into the bars.
"Here," she said, handing the rope to Fred and George, who tightened their hands on it. "Go."
Revving the car, Fred drove the car straight up, and with a loud crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window. Ron laughed in triumph, and Hermione could see Harry at the window, looking up at them in awe.
"Pull that in," Hermione told Ron, and Ron shot her an annoyed look but listened, hoisting the bars into the back seat.
"Pop the boot open," Hermione instructed Fred. "We'll need the room for his trunk."
"The boot?"
"Oh, honestly!"
Hermione climbed into the front seat, almost sitting on George's lap, and reached over, pulling the release. The boot popped open, and she gave Fred a smug look. Fred looked surprised.
"I don't think I knew that was there," he told her. "Neat!"
He backed the car up to the window, and Harry pushed out his trunk and into the boot of the car. Once it was firmly stored, Harry closed the boot as quietly as he could, but it still made a distinctive clunk as it shut, and Harry froze.
"I can hear Uncle Vernon!" he hissed.
"Then we'll hurry," Ron said. "Fred, turn the car!"
The car turned to line up a back door with Harry's window. Harry passed Hedwig's cage through to Ron, before carefully climbing into the window and perching on the sill, looking unsure. Hermione felt a bolt of fear, imagining Harry slipping and falling two stories into the bushes below.
"Come on!" Ron urged, holding out his hand, and with a deep breath, Harry took it, leaping into the car.
He managed to get in about halfway, scrambling and climbing into the car the rest of the way, Ron pulling him, and Ron crowed in triumph once Harry was safely in, Harry laughing in relief.
"We did it!"
"We did it!"
"We're being too loud," Hermione said urgently. "Fred, we need to get out of here, stat!"
Fred revved the engine and hit the Invisibility Booster again, and the car took off into the sky. Harry was laughing, Ron was grinning, and the twins were cheering. Seeing Harry's expression of relief, even Hermione managed a smile.
"You did it!" Harry said. "I about fell over when I heard you in the house today, Hermione. How did you manage to get Aunt Petunia to let you in?"
"You were in Harry's house?" Ron said, goggling.
"I told you that," Hermione said, shooting an indignant look at Ron. "I posed as an Avon lady," she told Harry. "I wore my mother's clothes and too much makeup. I said your Aunt Marge recommended Aunt Petunia to me, to make her think I was legitimate."
"How did you know about Aunt Marge?" Harry said, baffled.
"Oh, honestly, Harry," Hermione said with a sigh. "Do you think no one listens when you talk? You mentioned her and her dogs to Hagrid, when he was talking about Fang before."
Harry looked surprised that someone would remember something he'd mentioned months ago. Ron was giving Hermione a suspicious look, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Do you just remember everything?" Ron asked. His voice wasn't quite demanding, but it was close.
"Do you just forget everything as a default?" Hermione shot back, and the twins laughed.
"Oh, we like you, Miss Slytherin," Fred declared, spinning the wheel as he recognized a landmark. "You've got moxie."
"We're keeping you," George said, grinning down at her.
"We are not," Ron objected, outraged. "She helped rescue Harry. That's it."
"Nuh-uh," the twins chorused. Fred shot a jaunty grin backwards at Ron, and George pulled Hermione closer, arms wrapped around her waist as he smirked at Ron. "Finders keepers."
"I would hardly say you found me," Hermione objected. "I came knocking at your door."
"Well, we have you now," George said reasonably. His eyes sparkled. "And isn't possession nine-tenths of the law?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Harry looked confused but happy.
"Hermione came to your house?" he asked Ron. "What happened?"
"Yeah! She showed up and told us what the awful Muggles were doing to you. We came up with a daring escape plan-"
Ron detailed all their previous plans to Harry, who listened with a grin. Hermione smiled softly, relieved just to see that her friend was okay. She shifted slightly, provoking a grunt from George, before she stopped.
She'd dived into the front seat to help pop the trunk open, and had then been awkwardly sitting on the center glove box while they saved Harry. George had pulled her into his lap to fluster Ron, and she'd just kind of let him. But that now meant she was sitting on his lap… and his arms will still around her waist.
Hermione turned and looked down at George, who was grinning up at her.
"I can fit in the backseat in the middle, if you let me go," she told him primly.
"Nothing doing," George said jauntily. "I caught you…" He squeezed his arms a bit tighter. "…so now you're mine."
"This is entirely inappropriate," Hermione told him, giving him a dark look.
"Oh?" George's eyes were wide and innocent. "Did you think I was an appropriate sort of fellow?"
Scowling, Hermione set about freeing herself from George's arms, grabbing one and slowly pulling it off herself, only to have George clutch her tighter with the other one. She huffed and tried to hold one open while prying the other off but found she couldn't – his arm would escape and wrap back around her. She squirmed, trying to wriggle out from his arms overtop of them, but that didn't work either – it only got George grabbing onto her in a more uncomfortable way. Fred was laughing as Hermione fought to free herself, and eventually she gave up with a huff, sliding back into George's lap and shifting around slightly, trying to find her balance.
"What are you doing now?"
"Getting comfortable," she informed him. "If I'm doomed to staying here, I'm going to make sure it's at least an enjoyable ride."
"Is that what you were doing?" George's voice was lower, unheard by Ron and Harry in the back seat, who were discussing something about a House Elf. "I thought you were being entirely inappropriate with me."
"By trying to escape?" Hermione said incredulous.
"By trying to seduce me."
Hermione whirled around, shifting to stare at him. His eyes were dark, and there was a sort of glint in them there wasn't before.
"How, pray tell-" Hermione began.
"You have been squirming in my lap and grinding your bottom into my parts for several minutes now," George told her pleasantly, but his eyes were still dark, his pupils blown out. "Generally, when a lady grinds her hips into your bits, it's an indication she's ready to be entirely inappropriate."
Hermione stared at him. She had no idea what to say.
"I- you-"
George waved a hand, cutting her off. "I'm not saying I think you're propositioning me," he said. "It's more a warning – you keep at that, and you're likely to feel something you didn't intend to feel."
Hermione's face colored.
"If you just let me go, this wouldn't be an issue," she hissed.
George smirked, and Fred laughed.
"I reckon it's not an issue for him," Fred said, shooting her a grin. "Sitting with a pretty bird on his lap? That sounds like a good time. He's mentioning it for your comfort, Miss Slytherin. I doubt they do much fooling around down in the dungeons. Too scandalous."
"I'm twelve," Hermione said, horror in her voice.
"Yeah? We're fourteen," George said, shrugging. "So?"
"So… that's very young," Hermione said, faltering.
"Old enough," Fred said. "Mind you, it'd be a bit different if you were sitting on, say, Bill's lap, and you got a reaction. But a teenage boy liking a pretty girl on his lap, who's not very much younger than him?"
"That sounds pretty normal to me," George agreed.
Hermione stared at them. She felt lost.
"Who's Bill?"
"Bill's our oldest brother," Fred told her. "Professional Cursebreaker for Gringotts."
"Ah," Hermione said. "I see."
She lapsed into silence, then, letting the twins join in the conversation with Ron and Harry – apparently, a House Elf had attacked Harry's family with a cake of some sort. She let the chatter wash over her as she relaxed in George's hold, putting her head on his shoulder after a while, almost dozing with her thoughts.
It made sense, Hermione supposed. It was roughly the same in the Muggle world. Some girls in her year at Muggle school would undoubtedly have boyfriends by now, and some of them would be a little older than them. She'd heard of the older boys at schools dating younger girls, which made sense; guys matured later and got interested in girls after the girls had matured. Fourteen to twelve wasn't a large gap, now that she considered it. Especially because she was only two months from being thirteen.
She didn't feel interested in that sort of thing yet, though, she reflected. She liked it when Anthony and Blaise flirted with her, but she enjoyed the attention and liked to look at them – it wasn't a serious sort of interest, not yet. She wondered why she was maturing later than the others – Pansy and Daphne had already seemed interested in boys at the start of last year. And Hermione had just felt uncomfortable at the thought of George being interested in her in that way.
At least he hadn't been serious. From what she understood about male puberty, any girl around his age sitting in his lap would be enough to provoke a reaction.
She was jolted from her thoughts by the car touching down outside the house. Dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon. She clambered out of the car with the others, George helping set her down on the ground with a wink. Harry dragged her grappling hook out of the car with him, still caught in the window bars, and Hermione discreetly shrunk it and shoved the whole thing in her bag.
"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."
Hermione wondered what she was expected to do. Hide in the twins' room until there was a chance for a quick escape?
"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the– at the top-"
Ron's pallor had changed, his eyes staring behind the others. They whirled around.
A short, plump woman who could only be Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, her face one of fury.
"Ah," said Fred.
"Oh, dear," said George.
Hermione winced, and the yelling began.