** This is a series of drabbles, ficlets and one shots following our dear Fred and Hermione from June of 1995 (shortly before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament) to an as-of-yet undetermined point post-war.**

oOoOoOo

5 October 1995

Angelina was sitting crowded among the other recruits in The Hog's Head when she noticed she began feeling a bit itchy.

Perhaps ten minutes later, she stood up and sneezed, her eyes starting to water a little.

"Are you okay, Ang?" Katie asked, looking sideways at her in concern.

"Yeah, just my stupid allergies," she replied, shaking her head. "It's really stuffy in here."

She took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her sinuses and, over the general stale scent of liquor lingering in the pub, she detected the faintest hint of something floral. Considering she was in between Katie and Alicia, who she knew for a fact didn't use any flowery scented products, she found herself leaning forward ever so slightly to try and subtly sniff the witch standing in front of her.

"Oh," she puffed in surprise, pressing her lips together when she determined that was most definitely the source.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, turning around to look at her.

"Nothing," Angelina said, adding quickly, "I just think I might be allergic to your shampoo. Is it lavender?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, looking immediately apologetic. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me go stand somewhere else."

Angelina watched her cross the small, cramped space before she glanced around the room, seeking a familiar ginger head. Sure enough, when she found it, his eyes were already completely locked-in on a wild mane of allergy-inducing curls.

"Well, I'll be damned," Angelina murmured.

oOoOoOo

They'd just left The Hog's Head and stepped back into the brisk autumn air when Angelina spotted Fred, George and Lee walking in a row ahead of her on the path. She waved at Katie and Alicia, who were likely off to find a secluded spot in which to spend the rest of their visit, and then sped up and suddenly linked her arm through George's, whose hands were tucked in his coat pockets.

"Buy me a cup of tea?" she propositioned with her best attempt at a coy smile.

George stopped and looked down at her, bewildered, while Fred and Lee shrugged and kept walking.

"Uh, sure," he said, obviously a little puzzled. He turned and steered them toward Madam Pudifoot's, the only tearoom in the village.

Angelina found that she rather liked the way her arm fit snuggly in his; though she and Fred had had their short-lived affair the previous year, which ended as quickly as it had begun, she'd always harbored a soft spot for the marginally demurer half of the Weasley twins.

They reached the locale and ducked inside, placing an order and then sliding into a table. George looked a little uneasy.

"I'm not going to bite you," she assured him, shrugging out of her jacket.

"I know," he replied defensively, mirroring her.

They began to chat idly about classes before the Madam herself appeared, placing a tea service and a small plate of biscuits on the table between them.

"So, how's business going?" Angelina asked, lowering a lump of sugar into her cup.

"Fine," George replied, narrowing his eyes a bit.

"Orders still rolling in?"

"Roughly twenty this week."

"And how's the hunt for a brick-and-mortar shop coming?"

"There are a few prospects."

"Have you seen any of them?"

"We're meant to go over the winter holiday."

"And how long has Fred fancied Hermione?"

"I – what?" George asked sharply, choking on the bite of biscuit he'd just taken. She gave him a minute to regain his composure, his eyes watering and face red. Finally, he repeated in a wheezing sort of voice, "What did you just say?"

"How long has Fred fancied Hermione?" she inquired again more slowly, hands wrapped serenely around her own mug.

"Uhh –" George seemed to contemplate, clearly uncertain about how to proceed.

"I already know that he does, so don't bother lying. She uses lavender shampoo and I caught him staring at her half a dozen times during the meeting."

"Well… I expect since about the time the two of you broke up," George said sheepishly. He hastily added, "Though I don't think that was the reason."

She nodded, agreeing. "We weren't serious, you know. It was really just a bit of friendly carrying-on after the ball." They sat in silence for a second. "Does she know?" Angelina asked curiously, grabbing the teapot and topping off her cup and then his.

"I'm not sure," George said, shrugging. "They argue nearly as often as they're civil with one another; I don't pretend to understand it. Is that the only reason you asked me here?"

Angelina noted the slightly crestfallen look in his eyes and shook her head with a soft smile. "No. In fact, I think you're rather fit yourself."