A/N - Yeah sorry it's taken ages for me to update but I kind of hope this makes up for it! I'm thinking this is the end of this story sooo…

Fred stares after Hermione - the petite witch devilishly accepting the arm offered to her by the Bulgarian bon-bon before being led away whilst the blush Fred had caused fades from her cheeks – and has to fight the urge to haul her away from her "date". Without realising it, the lanky Weasley twin had been stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor as the Weird Sisters continued to rile the crowd of teenagers. "Oi, Frederick! You're killing the whole mood! Move your arse or get dancing!" Lee's grinning face calls Fred back to reality and he mumbles something about using the bogs. Fighting his way through the wildly dancing throng of witches and wizards, the red head dashes to the bathrooms, still half hard with thoughts of Hermione Granger racing through his mind.

Meanwhile Hermione had been gushing to Harry and Ron about the magical night she was having – missing out any details about Fred – and hadn't realised the dark look blooming on Ron's ashen face. Unbeknownst to anyone else, the youngest Weasley had seen Hermione's escapades with his older brother and jealousy was slamming Ron like a bus. Mind fogged by a thick cloud of envy, the ridiculously gowned wizard had burst out at his beautiful best friend, resulting in her crashing onto the carved stone steps of the Great hall. Letting her sobs wrack her small frame, Hermione let all the pain from Ron's harsh words and her feelings towards Fred and the difficulty of her and Viktor's "relationship" wash over her.

Eventually Fred leaves the bathroom and immediately scours the gradually emptying ballroom for the love of his life. Upon not finding her, Fred's stomach drops to his toes – fearing that she and Krum had left… together. But looking befuddled and hurt by the punch bowl, Viktor Krum is stood with two flutes of pumpkin juice and no Hermione. Breezily striding toward the seeker, Fred assumes the role of a curious friend of the witch Krum was meant to be taking care of as he hides the mounting anxiety behind a cool face, "Hello there Viktor, where's your date gotten up to?" Gritting his teeth, Fred fights the urge to shake the Bulgarian so he replies faster, "I don't know. She was talking to Potter and Wesley… Weasel… Wheezy?"

"Weasley, Krum, Weasley." Fred growls before spinning on his heel and practically sprinint out of the hall, meaning to go to the boy's dormitory and use the marauders' map. It wasn't needed though; on the steps leading to the Great Hall, among the clusters of weeping teenage girls, is a princess – sobbing by herself. "Hey, you." Fred smiles softly, even with makeup streaming down her face and her hair in disarray she's so beautiful – she could be beautiful to Fred Weasley in pyjamas with toothpaste smudged around her mouth. Thoughtlessly, Fred slides onto the step beside her and coils and arm around her still shaking shoulders. Only now Hermione feels warmth around her shoulders she realises that Fred is beside her, eyebrows knitted together in concern, lips softly smiling. Caving into the lanky teen's imploring gaze, the young witch bawls into his chest as Fred rubs soothing circles on her back whilst making gentle promises that she never hears.

The Great Hall is almost empty aside from the final stragglers, Viktor had seen Hermione and Fred as he left the Great Hall over a quarter of an hour ago and had straight away seen the bond the two shared and chose not to bother them. Now Hermione rests her head on Fred's broad shoulder, swaying slightly to the whimsical music whereas Fred is tense with the thoughts about his next move – really all the Weasley twin wants to do is race upstairs and beat the living daylights out of his little brother for making Hermione cry – but he can't leave the witch alone, not tonight. Tonight had been Hermione's night to shine: her night to prove everyone just how stunning this bookworm could be and Ron had ruined it, Fred knew that. He also knew that he'd had a big role to play in Hermione being so upset; he should have let her have her fairy tale night with a famous foreign seeker as her date to the ball where she danced with him all night. Instead Fred had been so selfish and he couldn't forgive himself. Abruptly, the red head bounces to his feet – startling Hermione, "Fred, what are you doing?" her blotchy face marred by shock and nerves, thinking she'd done something wrong – again. Grinning his most devil-may-care grin, Fred weasley offered his hand, bowing a little, "May I have this dance, Hermione Jean Weasley?" at this Hermione cackles but doesn't take his hand.

"I'm not a Weasley, Fred!"

"Not yet." He barely whispers it but it floats over the din of slow music and brushes over the young girl's ears like a gentle caress. Meeting each other's eyes, the pair feel a warm electric buzz humming between them as chocolate melts over hazel, "In that case, I'd love to dance, Frederick Gideon Granger." Slipping her hand into his Hermione lets Fred lead her to the centre of the dance floor, oblivious of the other couples as she gazes adoringly at Fred. Tenderly placing his right hand on her waist and sliding his left hand into hers whilst the petite girl rests her tiny hand on his shoulder, the pair waltz around the dance floor, just like McGonagall taught them, and completely out of time with the music.

…..

"FRED!" Ron screeches through the hard oak door of the fifth years' dormitories whilst hammering persistently with his fist, at his elbow a sleepy Harry flinches at the noise and being dragged out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Swinging the door open, a sleep laden George glowers murderously at his younger brother, "What do you want Ronnikins? Spit it out before I curse you into next week for waking me at this ungodly hour." Bluntly pushing past his brother, Ron pulls back the curtains of Fred's four poster bed and huffs disgustedly at the empty sheets, "Where is he?" Ron spits out venomously. Frowning at Ron, George and Harry simultaneously ask, "why?" But Ron only launches himself at George. "I saw him last night with Hermione and I know you did too! She didn't come back to the dorms last night and I want to know what he's done with her!" Wild blue eyes burn into the startled twin – pinned to the floor and too shocked to retaliate – whilst Harry pries Ron off of his brother, "You… saw that?" George had indeed seen Fred and Hermione dancing together – pre-Ron's jealousy fit – but had merely smirked and left the couple to it, assuming no one would notice in the wild crowd. As the Weasley brothers seem to have a stare down, Harry's big brother instincts towards Hermione kick in and shake him out of his fatigue, "wait, what do you mean dancing with Hermione? And where are they both?" Harry was more distressed than angry, concerned about his best friend's safety and wellbeing than whether Fred and Hermione's virginities were still intact. "Exactly! Exactly, Harry! Where are they now? What were they doing last night? Why didn't Lavender Brown see her come back to her dorm last night?"

"I think that's my business, Ronald."

Stood in the door way of the boys' dorm's shared bathroom, Hermione Granger stood in only an oversized quidditch jersey with Weasley emblazoned on the back, a tooth brush in her hand and the remnants of toothpaste smudged around her mouth. Jaws hanging loose, all of the pyjama clothed boys gawk at the normally modest girl's attire and the smirk that accompanies it. Well, all except Fred who saunters into the dorm from the bathroom after her, "And my business," Grinning wolfishly, Fred kisses the corner of Hermione's mouth where toothpaste is caked, "hmmm… Spearmint…"