"Well," she glanced at the books all around her; forgotten for the sake of the parchment she was reading. "Er, not really. At the moment."

"Another Fred letter, hmm? What's that? Four this week?"

"Only three."

"Mmm-hmm." Ron shook his head. "Didn't you see him less than a week ago?"

"Yeah." She laughed. "But between all the questions from the mass of Gryffindors that surrounded him, it wasn't like there was much time for us, you know?"

"You miss him?"

"Yeah." She flushed and looked away, folding the letter and tucking it into her robe. "But you didn't come over here to talk to me about Fred, did you?"

"Not especially, no."

"Need help with something?" She looked at his empty hands. "No books?"

"Homework's done."

"Is it?" She cocked an eyebrow. "You and Harry are up to something, aren't you?"

"We're thinking," he glanced around to make sure no one was watching then leaned in, "we should go see Hagrid tonight. We've hardly seen him since school's started. And we thought we'd find out how Grawrp's doing."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He seemed surprised and Hermione tilted her head. "What?"

"Well, you've just not done much with us this year. I mean, I know I was a git at the beginning and then there were all the rumors…"

"I thought you hated me at the beginning. You wouldn't even look at me after you showed up…"

"I don't want to talk about that night, okay? I mean, you're my friend and I was concerned about you and maybe we should leave it at that, okay?"

She nodded. "In a way, I was almost happy about all the rumors."

"You were?"

"It meant you started talking to me again." She turned so that she could look up into his eyes. "I miss it when you don't talk to me, Ron. I miss you."

"I figured with you and Fred…"

"Fred's my boyfriend, Ron. That doesn't mean that I don't need my friends as well. Maybe even more than before." She tugged at the edge of her robe distractedly, not noticing as his eyes followed her hand, watching the simple motion with rapt attention. "I know that for…whatever reasons, you've had a hard time accepting my relationship with…"

"You know," Ron leapt over the back of the couch and settled on the end opposite her. He folded his legs, Indian style, and rested his wrists on his ankles, smiling at her. "I've got no great desire to talk about Fred. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay." She turned, adopting an identical posture to his. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Well, you don't like Quidditch."

"And you don't like reading."

"You could care less about Wizard Chess."

"And you don't want to hear about S.P.E.W."

"We're back to Fred, aren't we?"

"Pretty much." She giggled. "I suppose we could talk about Harry. Is he dating Ginny?"

"I don't think so. They're just sort of…friendly." He shrugged. "She's your best friend. Isn't that more of a girly thing to talk about?"

"I suppose. But then, I've never really been a girly sort of girl." Hermione looked down at her hands.

"Some guys like that," Ron reminded her. "I mean, we don't all like giggly, silly girls like Lavender and Parvati. Some guys like girls who think. Look at Luna. Since she's announced that she's broken up with me, she's got half the school clamoring to ask her out."

"I heard she's seeing Neville."

"I've heard rumors." He shrugged.

"Did you really like her, Ron?"

"Well, yeah." He looked around the room, desperate for an interruption. "I mean, she's nice. And she's honest. She's not interested in things that other girls are interested in either, but she's fun to be around. She'll try anything."

"And not debate about it?"

He shook his head, his eyes serious. "I wasn't comparing you, Hermione."

"I know." She blushed. "I do."

"You're different girls."

"Can I ask you a question, Ron?"

He picked at his right thumb with his left hand, not looking at her. "Uh-huh."

"When you kissed her? At dinner that night? Were you really going out already? Or did you just do that because of Fred?"

"Does it matter? The end result would be the same no matter what. I dated her. We did things." He blushed furiously. "Whether it had anything to do with you and Fred or not, it happened. And it can't be changed."

"Would you change it?"

"Did you go out with Fred because I hurt your feelings?" His voice wasn't accusatory, wasn't demanding, just a simple question that seemed urgent in spite of the soft way he asked it.

"Maybe a little."

"Would you change the end result?"

She met his eyes and blushed, her skin flushed and hot in the cracking firelight. "When are we supposed to meet Harry?" She answered, not answering his question at the same time answering it loud and clear.

"In an hour or so. He's talking to Dumbledore, I think."

"Everything okay?"

"As okay as it can be. As okay as he'll tell me." He smiled ruefully. "You know Harry."

"Tonight at Hagrid's should help."

"Tonight with his friends should help." Ron shifted his stance, moving closer. Hermione did the same, almost unconsciously, her knee brushing against Ron's thigh. "He's missed you."

"I've missed him too."

Ron looked up at her, his blue eyes bright. "I've missed you."

Hermione stared into his eyes, unwilling to blink as he seemed to be closer without moving, his breath hot and heavy. "I…I've got to put my books away." She turned away and gathered her things, holding her books in front of her like a shield, practically running up the stairs to her room.

Fred stood in the doorway of the library, ignoring the titters and giggles of the girls that passed through under his arm. He could feel their glances as they passed; feel them even sharper as they looked back. He patted his head to make sure his hair wasn't still smoking, wondering vaguely if he'd accidentally left the house still suffering from George's new Catastrophic Cordial.

Or perhaps he'd simply walked in on a scene that he wasn't supposed to see. Hermione was at the library table, kneeling on the edge of the chair, leaning over to point to something on Ron's parchment. Her hair was falling in her eyes and she pushed it back in annoyance then leaned forward again, resting her hand on the table to support herself.

Only it wasn't on the table so much as it was on Ron's hand. And not moving except to squeeze a little as Ron looked up at her and said something that made her eyes light up as she nodded.

Fred felt a sharp pain in his stomach as though a stray bludger had swung through the library targeted right at him. He stepped back, intent on leaving when Harry stumbled in the library door. "Hey! Fred! What brings you here?" He chuckled and followed Fred's gaze. "Oh. Right."

"Yeah. Er, hi, Harry." He gave him a quick smile then looked back at Hermione. She'd turned at Harry's voice and her eyes widened. Fred waved and managed a smile, his eyes dropping down to where her hand was now no longer on Ron's. "Hello, love."

"Fred!" She got off her chair and sent an apologetic look to Madame Pince who was glaring at them all disapprovingly. "Sorry, Madame Pince. We'll leave."

"We're studying," Ron reminded her.

"I know. I'll…" She glanced at Fred then back at Ron. "I'll be back. You and Harry keep at it."

"No," Fred held up his hands. "I didn't mean to butt in on anything. You go back to studying. I'll just owl you and we'll meet up another time. I don't want to be in the way."

"You're not, Fred." She blushed and shook her head, moving over to him. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You're not."

He nodded, letting her take his hand and lead him from the library. He followed her without comment, noting the passing stares and whispers as they moved further from the library and closer to Gryffindor. "McGonagall will not be pleased if we go to Gryffindor."

"We're not." She turned a corner he was pretty sure didn't exist and stopped in front of a wooden door. Leaning in closer to the wood, she whispered "Ocean breeze" and stood back as the door swung open. Fred whistled and looked around in awe, letting her rush him into the bathroom.

"Wow. This is one swanky set up you've got here, Miss Granger."

"Well, it's not exactly mine." She locked the door then unlocked it, finally settling on locking it again. "I mean, except when I'm in here."

"Do you share?"

"Pardon?"

"The prefects. Boys and girls? Girls and girls?" He walked over to the sinks and made a show of checking out his reflection, watching her reactions.

"Oh. The girls share one and the boys share one." She blushed. "I guess it's conceivable that they could share them for…well, mixed, um, activities." She ducked her head and sighed. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

"Depends. Are you trying to ask me if I want to share this for mixed activities?" He turned and leaned against the sink, not making a move toward her. "Because, if you are, I'd have to agree that you're not very good at it, which in many ways, is more than a little reassuring, given that you are my girlfriend and you've yet to ask me said question, and I'd be a little put out if you'd been practicing on anyone else."

"I haven't," she assured him. "Practiced, that is."

"Or asked?"

"Oh." She blushed again. "Or asked."

"And my fragile ego thanks you." He bowed and she laughed and he thought that it might be okay if he could make her laugh.

"So you've come to visit?" She sat tentatively on the edge of the tub, fidgeting with her robe.

The brief flicker of hope seemed to sputter and he shrugged. "I thought maybe it'd be safe to pop by on a weekend. I knew that there was a Quidditch game later. Thought maybe I could escort you."

"It's Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"I know. I mean, I didn't know until I got here, but I guessed from the snakes and badgers on all the banners." He looked at the tub, counted the faucets that gleamed in the bright light. "You're not wanting to go then?"

"It's just that there's a huge test on Monday. We've been studying for it like mad over the past few days and Harry, Ron and I swore we'd devote the whole day to it."

"Oh."

"I thought I might have mentioned it in a letter."

"You might have," he admitted. "Sometimes I skim the school stuff so I can skip down to the bits where you tell me you love me."

"I do, Fred." She got off the tub and walked over to him, her heart in her eyes. "I do."

"But."

"But this test is important. Plus, it's Snape's class so there's already about a million strikes against us and we need to do well at this, if for no other reason than to show up Malfoy. He's gotten worse with his father in prison, like he thinks he's supposed to take up the family mantle of evil or something."

"Probably does." He smiled at her and caressed her cheek. "It's all right, love. I understand."

"I want to be with you." She leaned into his touch, her fingers grazing his chest. "I've missed you."

"It's all right, Hermione. I don't need a testimonial, I promise. I know how much school means to you." He tapped her nose. "I was being selfish. Hoping my roguish charm would be enough to distract you from all those books calling your name."

"You sound like Ron."

He nearly choked. "Ron talks about my roguish charm?"

"No," she laughed. "Ron says I spend too much time with my head buried in books."

"Well, as loath as I am to agree with Ron on any subject, I would have to do so in this instance, especially since it's keeping me from spending time with you." His fingers moved over her cheek, back into her tangled hair. "Can I kiss you?"

"That's a silly question, Fred Weasley."

He leaned in until his lips brushed hers. "Doesn't feel silly."

"It doesn't?"

"No," he kissed her gently, softly. "It feels very," another kiss, just as light, "very," and another, the pressure faltering fading with his breath, "very important."

She closed her eyes curled her hands into fists in his robes, the familiar heat flooding through her. "It's not fair, you know."

"What's not?"

"That you do this to me. That you make me feel this way."

"You don't like the way I make you feel?" He moved his lips to her neck, burning kisses branding her skin.

"I don't like that I don't make you feel the same way."

"What way?" He asked against her ragged pulse.

"Weak. And trembly. Like I have no control anymore."

"What makes you think I don't feel that way?" He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, moaning into her skin as her body responded, tightening, hardening under his touch. "What makes you think you don't make me feel that way?"

"You always stop." Her voice was matter-of-fact and he couldn't help but pull back, catching her chin as he did so and forcing her to hold his gaze. "You can always stop."

"I die," he told her earnestly, his words weaving their way between them like a spell neither of them was sure of the words to, "every time I leave you." He framed her face and kissed her, her lush mouth opening under his, her tongue darting between his parted lips and taking control of the kiss, pushing him, teasing him. Taunting him.

"You always stop," she panted. "And I can't stop. I don't ever want to stop."

"If I didn't stop, love, I'd never stop." He bent his forehead to hers and listened to her breath, watched the rise and fall of her chest as it sped up then slowed, evening out as they stood there, not looking at each other. "I know it's hard."

She giggled a bit and he shook his head, laughing as well.

"I know it's difficult because it's new. It's your first time with all of this and it's scary and exciting and painful and glorious all at once. And I want it all to be that way for you, Hermione. Every step. So I make us stop because if I don't, you won't have that."

"I don't believe that."

"But I have to." He watched her as she drew into herself without drawing away from him. "Besides, we spent a lot of time together over the summer. We hung out at the Burrow and the store and with my family and it was all pretty isolated and not much like the real world at all."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to make sure it's not different for you, being back here." He quirked one side of his mouth up in a smile, wondering if it was shaking as much as it felt like it was.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," she spoke the words softly, shakily, her voice trembling as if it might break.

"For someone else."

She shook her head, horror in her eyes. "No, Fred. No."

"It's a song." He smiled ruefully. "It used to play all the time on the car radio until Dad figured out it was a…thingie."

"Tape?"

"Sure." He nodded and shrugged all at once.

"You don't think that I…" Her eyes hurt him, wide and wounded and so warm he wanted to lose himself in them. Eyes that spent their days now looking at Ron and seeing Ron and not seeing anything of him except words he wrote on parchment, his heart made manifest, reading and rereading and copying them until they were perfect and nonchalant and meaningful and in the end they were words and not here, with her.

Couldn't hold her when she was scared, couldn't touch her when she was sad, couldn't comfort her when she was lonely. Couldn't touch her when he loved her, couldn't put thought to action when he wrote the words as if they were easy, scrawling them just above his name like he wrote them all the time.

"No," he assured her with a small kiss, a dam to hold back the flood of emotions pounding inside him. "I don't."

"Ron and I are just friends."

"I know."

"Nothing more."

"I know."

Tears clouded the milky brown and he kissed them away, tasting salty promises on his tongue. "I wouldn't ever do that to you, Fred. I love you." She looked up at him. "You believe that, don't you? You have to believe it."

"I do, Hermione. I do believe you love me."

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe, but it didn't matter because he couldn't breathe anyway through the pain in his chest, the pieces of his heart stabbing at his lungs.

"You should go back to your study group."

"But you've barely been here."

"Ron and Harry are counting on you to pull them out of the fire, love." He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, not teasing it from the other, afraid of falling into her kiss. "Mum would kill me if she knew that I'd contributed in any way to Ron not passing Potions. In fact, at the rate I'm going in her estimation, I'd likely end up blamed for his whole career of poor performance in Snape's class."

Hermione giggled and took a deep breath, the sound thick with unshed tears. "If you go now, when will I see you again?"

"Halloween?" He suggested. "Hogsmeade weekend? We can meet up just on the road into town?"

"That'd be nice." She smoothed her hand along his thigh, moving it up to cup his cock. "A whole day alone with you." His mind swirled with thoughts, most centered on the warm feel of her hand and the cost of a hotel room in Hogsmeade. She chuckled as his body reacted. "Maybe you should go, Fred. Before I end up shirking my Prefect responsibilities and shag you right here in the bathroom."

"You'd be shirking more than your responsibilities," he reminded her, his fingers trailing between her breasts. He pulled his hand away. "C'mon. Back to the library for you."

"But…"

"Come on. If I keep you away much longer, Ron's likely to tell Mum that I'm distracting you from your studies again." He couldn't help but smile as she moaned quietly, both of them thinking of the last time he'd done so. "Which would get me hexed up to my ears, extendable or otherwise, and I'd probably get banned from seeing you at all."

"Which would stop you for how long?"

He stopped walking, stopped thinking and grabbed her into his arms, lifting her as he kissed her, her whole body against his, friction heating the world around them as he slowly slid her down the length of him to rest back on her toes. "Never."

Hermione disappeared into the library, sinking into her chair between Harry and Ron and falling into the conversation as if she'd never left. Fred smiled to himself, hating the sense of melancholy that washed over him as the door closed silently behind her.

He let out a deep breath and started walking, heading for the entrance to the castle. He was just about to leave when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned his head and grinned. "Professor Dumbledore."

"Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore smiled at him in return. "It's good to see you again. I regret that I wasn't around to see your last hurrah, though I've heard much about it. And, of course, visited the memorial site."

"I assure you that George and I definitely had you in mind when we planned it, Sir."

"Excellent." Dumbledore fell in step with him as they walked out of the castle, moving down the stairs onto the lawn. "And what brings you here today? Marketing?"

"No. Though if you'd let us, George and I would be interested in opening a branch office here at Hogwarts someday."

"I'm afraid Mr. Filch would not be pleased," Dumbledore chuckled. "So for now I will have to decline. Although a few bags of some of your newest wares might have some persuasive influence."

"Headmaster!" Fred feigned shock. "You're not a practical joker."

"If you cannot laugh at yourself, Fred, it is vital that you can laugh at others." He raised an eyebrow. "Is that not so?"

"Humor will save us all."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "You're quite the philosopher."

"Think you could say that to Mum next time you see her? I could use a few notches where she's concerned."

"Trouble at home?"

"She's not…fond of my new girlfriend."

"Oh?" Dumbledore stopped and watched as the Hufflepuff Quidditch team walked from the large locker room. "I thought you were dating our Miss Granger."

"I am."

"And your mother doesn't approve?"

Fred laughed. "Mum approves of Hermione just fine. What she doesn't approve of is the fact that I'm dating her."

"Hmm." Dumbledore nodded, opening his mouth to speak then stopping. He shook his head. "Matters of the heart have very little to do with what people approve of." He nodded toward the stands. "You should stay and watch the match. You and your brother were quite the pair in the air. You must miss it."

"We play at home a bit, but yeah." Fred looked wistfully at the stands. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed?"

"Not at all." Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder. "Enjoy the game."

Fred groaned as Slytherin scored another goal, the Hufflepuff keeper flying in front of the hoop seconds too late. The crowd around him stayed cheerful though, rooting for each player in turn. He turned his gaze higher, ignoring the game for a moment, focusing on Draco Malfoy and the Hufflepuff seeker, both of whom were desperately turning their heads, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold.

"What are they doing?"

"Hmm?" he looked down, turning his head and finding himself staring into a pair of violet eyes. "What?"

"Them. Up there." She pointed to Draco. "What are they doing?"

"Looking for the Snitch."

"And that's…?"

"The Snitch?" He looked at her in shocked awe. "You don't know what the Snitch is?"

"I don't know much about Quidditch."

"You're here at Hogwarts and you don't know much about Quidditch?" It was half sentence, half disbelief. "You've got to be joking."

"I don't come to the games normally. I usually study."

"Oh. Right." He looked her over then looked back to the game. "Well, there are six players. You really don't know anything about Quidditch?"

"Really."

"That's insane." He shook his head, attempting to wrap his mind around the thought, unable to do so.

"Will you teach me?"

"Sure." He started talking about the game, pointing out certain elements to her as he discussed them, the general discussion dovetailing into a drawn-out explanation on obsession as he told her about Oliver Wood, about Harry. "Gryffindor's the best team," he noted her house colors and shrugged, "no offense."

"None taken." She hid a yawn behind her hand as both seekers suddenly swept into motion. Draco dove, heading quickly toward the ground, swerving at the last minute as the bludger came barreling toward him.

"See, there's the Snitch." He pointed and turned back to her, blinking as she smiled, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed on him. "Er. The gold ball. Flying. Flying gold ball." He laughed briefly, shocked. "You're flirting, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You probably know all about Quidditch. You've probably got Quidditch Through the Ages memorized, don't you?" He laughed again. "I've gone dense. You've been flirting with me."

"I thought you knew that." She tilted her head, obviously confused. "I thought you liked it."

"I didn't even notice." He stopped and cringed. "Not that you're not stunning or anything," he looked her over again, violet eyes, black hair, parted lips. "You are. Just…well, you're not really…I must have been boring you senseless."

"No. You're really passionate about it."

"I can't believe that I…" He glanced out at the game, staring unseeing as Draco slammed into the Hufflepuff seeker, knocking her out of his way. She spun a few turns then took off, shooting up into the sky before turning and sailing back down, her fist clenched around the Golden Snitch. "I apologize."

"What for?"

"For being an insensitive git?" He offered. "Why didn't you just slap me and tell me that I was missing it?"

"I thought it was part of your charm. That whole absentminded thing."

"No. I mean, I'm charming, but that's not part of it."

"Generally when someone doesn't get it, they don't want to. Or they have a girlfriend?" She blushed. "I guess I just never thought to consider that you might be slow."

"Normally I'm not." He raked his hand through his hair. "My mind's elsewhere today."

"Do you?"

"Pardon?" He closed his eyes and smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry. Maybe I am normally slow and they've just not informed me."

"It's all right." She blushed and looked down at his hands, taking one in her own and holding them together, as if judging the difference in size. "Do you want to?"

"To…Oh. Get it. Right. Got it." He carefully eased his hand away from hers. "I do. Have a girlfriend."

"Oh." She watched him again, finding his hand again, this time threading her fingers through his. "Does she go to school here?"

Fred stared at his hand in hers, perplexed. "Yes. School. Here. She does." He reached over and grasped her wrist lightly and disengaged his fingers, setting her hand very gently back in her lap. "She goes to school here."

"So why," she smiled and pressed her hand to his thigh, sliding it down to his kneecap. Fred's eyes widened and he sucked in air. "Isn't your girlfriend here?"

He lifted her hand again and dropped it back onto her lap. "She's studying."

She shrugged and turned back to watch the emptying stands. Fred stood and she got to her feet as well, the crowd around them keeping them together. She turned and faced him, the person behind him shoving slightly so that he ended up holding her arms, her face just inches away, her body brushing against his. "You know, you don't have to be left to your own devices." He started as her fingers grazed over his jeans. "I could keep you company while she's studying."

"No. I really don't think that'll be necessary." He stepped back, not caring as he trod on someone's foot. "Thank you."

"Because I'm assuming she's not studying alone or you'd be with her. So she must be studying with someone. Ron maybe? Or Harry? Both."

"You know who…"

"You've red hair." She touched the strands that hung on his forehead. "You have to be a Weasley." She leaned in despite the now nearly empty stand. "She's with them all the time, you know. Ron especially. It must be hard," again her hand moved to his crotch, stroking him through his jeans, "being so far away."

"You know," Fred shoved her hand away once more, "I'm as appreciative of a good effort as the next guy, but no, even for a Slytherin, means no."

"Your loss, Weasley." She smirked at him. "Or hers, considering you can't even manage to get it up."

"That's because my cock has taste." Fred smirked in return, moving around her and down the stairs. "Something you'll just have to take my word for." He disappeared down into the stands, hurrying away from them as he touched the ground. "She's a Slytherin," he reminded himself as he headed toward the gates, his mind stuck back on the image of Hermione and Ron in the library.

She was a Slytherin. But that didn't mean that she was wrong.