A/N – This story will have a little bit of everything. It's primarily romance, but there will also be comedy, drama, angst, action, etc. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Mommy, mommy, Christmas is coming!" A thrilled, energetic Hermione bounced along the wooden floor towards her mother's open arms, curly hair flailing behind her like an untamable wave of the sea. True joy and excitement shone in her eyes, electrified by the prospect of Christmas presents and candy.

"Yes, sweetie, Christmas is coming!" Her mother said with an equally bright smile on her face, gathering her nine year old daughter into her arms. She stroked the untamed mass of hair, trying to coax it into something more manageable. She shook her head in frustration when she was, yet again, unsuccessful. She had fervently hoped that Hermione would inherit her own thin, soft, and straight hair, but instead the little girl had ended up with her father's unruly locks.

"Santa's coming again this year, isn't he?" Hermione asked. She had always been skeptical of the concept of a single man delivering presents to all the children of the world in one night, she was too sharp to just accept the story that had been told to all the other kids. However, this Santa Clause figure had yet to disappoint her, and so she believed.

"Yes, honey. What do you want from Santa this year?" Her mother asked, although she knew the answer already. It had been the same every year since Hermione read her first words.

"Books! Books books books!" Hermione chanted feverishly, jumping up and down at each exclamation for added emphasis.

Her mother hid a smile at her daughter's enthusiasm. Hermione hadn't only just inherited her father's hair, but she had taken his love for reading and multiplied it into an obsession. Already she had devoured the children's section in the library and was steadily moving through the books for teens.

"Isn't there anything else you want? Anything at all?" Her mother asked, trying to get Hermione to broaden her horizons a little.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she plunged into deep thought. What could one want, other than books? What else was there? She had never truly considered it before. She had friends to play with, books to read, music to dance to… what else could there possibly be?

Her eyes lit up in a sudden moment of revelation. For years she had idolized the many beautiful princesses in fairy tales, sometimes daydreaming that she was one of them. She wished for a prince to save her from known peril, and whisk her away to a castle to live happily ever after. She had her wish, something just as desirable as a good book. She wanted a prince.

Hermione had such a fierce look of determination about her that her mother almost laughed

"Mother, I've made up my mind." She said in her most official voice.

"Yes, dear?" Her mother asked expectantly, playing along with Hermione's game.

"I want a prince!" She declared just as proudly as if she had discovered a new world.

Her mother looked a little taken aback for a moment, but regained her composure quickly. "Honey, that's not something that Santa can give…"

"I don't care, that's what I want! I've made up my mind." Hermione said defiantly. "We can live in a castle and get married and rule our kingdom and live happily ever after…" Hermione was lost in the world of fantasy.

"Honey, I just don't think that-"

"Santa will give it to me, mommy. You just wait. Santa always gives the good children what they want for Christmas, he'll get me a true prince for sure. You'll see."

"You'll see….."

The innocent voice faded into a blur as Hermione felt herself being pulled gently away from her dream, her clutches on its fragile memory slowly losing their grip. Her mind began to process events and facts from her current life, breaking her groggy hold with the younger Hermione. She slipped away from the fantasy world of her past, becoming more and more immersed with reality by the minute. Finally, she was conscious again, and opened her eyes to see the familiar guest bedroom in the Burrow.

She shook her head and smiled faintly at the journey back to her childhood. What a silly child she had been, hoping for something that no one could control. So determined, she'd thought she knew everything at such a young age. Things had changed so dramatically since then, she had matured, now she knew better.

Fairy tales didn't come true.

She was content to stare at the ceiling, wrapping herself in her blankets to shield off the winter chill. Her brow furrowed much in the same way as it had when she was a child confronted with a problem she couldn't immediately solve. She'd had the same recurring dream three nights in a row now, whereas before she'd never even thought of that memory. It had completely slipped her mind until the dream brought it back, and reality sunk back in.

Her mother had been right, she didn't get her prince.

Hermione shook her head, trying to dislodge the pessimistic thoughts. Come on, Hermione, snap out of it. She thought. The perfect world of romance isn't for you anyways, and you know it. No man will ever make you happy like a book can!

Emboldened by her own reinforcing thoughts, she got out of bed and faced the chilled air, wrapping a blanket around herself for warmth. The rest of the house wouldn't be up for a few hours, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. She was too conscious, her mind was racing too quickly with thoughts of her dream to slow down.

She walked through the halls and down the stairs, her slippers making soft scratching noises on the wooden floor. She entered the kitchen, put a pot full of water and tea on the stove, and sat down to wait for it to heat. There was nothing that soothed her nerves more than a steaming cup of tea, especially in a winter as brutal as this.

Almost as if on cue, a frigid wind swept through the kitchen. Hermione pulled the blanket closer, guarding herself against the sudden onslaught of ice and snow. She ducked her face against the sting of the wind, trying to keep as warm as possible. Where had the blizzard come from?

Soon the wind stopped, and Hermione heard the front door slam. Her heart jumped into her chest as her immediate thought was that someone was robbing the Burrow. What should she do? Wake someone up and tell them? Run and hide, or face the perpetrator?

Come on, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor. Pull yourself together and face the intruder head on! Hermione thought bravely to herself as she stood and picked up a bat. Mr. Weasley had left it in the kitchen after rambling on and on during dinner about the fascinating uses Muggles found for the odd-looking stick. She gripped it, fairly certain that its use tonight would not be one Mr. Weasley had previously thought of, and prepared to face the intruder.

She ducked around the corner, listening painfully close for the footsteps of one who was trying too hard to be quiet when he walked. She silently moved the bat into a swinging position, ready to annihilate whoever turned the corner. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs until she could feel them stretch, and released the breath, taking care not to make any noise. The breath did nothing to calm her rapidly beating heart or soothe her frantic nerves.

She heard an ominous creak in the floorboard, the noise alarmingly loud and close. The intruder was just on the other side of the corner that she was behind. It was now or never.

Hermione mustered all her strength, jumped from around the corner and swung the bat towards her target with all the force her small frame was capable of. She was met with astonished blue eyes, eyes so unique that she would recognize anywhere, and realized her deadly mistake.

But it was too late to stop now.

"Whoa!" He responded instinctively as his quidditch honed reflexes forced him to jerk his arm up and stop the bat. A loud clunk issued from where the bat hit his outstretched hand, easily stopping the blow that was meant for his head. He silently thanked all those years of hitting and dodging bludgers out on the quidditch pitch, it quite possibly had just saved his life.

Hermione recognized her mistake almost as immediately as Fred had stopped her, and futilely tried to reverse her attempt. However, physics were already in motion, the objects set in their journey, and trying to stop them only resulted in a mess. Her left foot stepped backwards while the right foot kept going, her brain not really sure what she was supposed to be doing. She lost her balance, and started to fall to the side.

Fred's eyes widened for the second time in as many seconds as he realized what was happening. He darted forward, his knees hitting the floor, arms outstretched, wondering if he would make it in time.

Hermione was so sure she would hit the hard, wooden floor that she was actually surprised when she didn't. Instead of receiving a shocking blow to the head, strong arms encircled her falling form. Fred was on his knees, holding her mere centimeters from the ground, his eyes only inches away from hers.

"Easy there, Hermione." He breathed. His breath was warm on her cold nose.

Hermione gazed at him in shock. It wasn't an intruder, it was Fred! What had she done? She had just attempted to assassinate her best friend's brother, and here she was, snuggled up in his arms like nothing was wrong!

Her face promptly turned a glorious shade of crimson at this revelation.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed as she practically jumped a mile out of his arms, back into the realm where she was in control. "I didn't know… I thought… You sounded like an intruder, and… Oh, Fred, I'm so sorry!"

She stumbled away from him, horribly embarrassed.

"It's okay, it's not like you actually hurt me." Fred answered. "But you might want to be more careful when swinging that thing around." He motioned towards the bat.

Hermione argued defensively, "Well, you sounded like a thief, with the way you were creeping around. You can't blame me for trying to protect my friends. Why were you sneaking, anyways?"

"I got back earlier than I planned to, and didn't want to wake everyone up, although at this point I'd be surprised if any of them are still asleep. I didn't think I'd be attacked in my own house for trying to be quiet."

Hermione blushed again. She hated embarrassment, she always managed to avoid it with her brains and personality. She hated feeling like the stupid girl. She wanted to justify herself, make others understand why she did what she did, then the embarrassment didn't burn so shamefully.

"Well… you can't blame me, I didn't know who you were." Hermione argued, refusing to be brought down. "You come back after two years and expect me to recognize you?"

"Well, considering you see my identical twin, George, all the time, it shouldn't have been that big of a shock." Fred pointed out. "You're the one who looks… different…" He swallowed on the last word, as if he was trying to find a more suiting one.

Hermione felt herself blush again.

She shifted her feet awkwardly. This wasn't how she wanted to greet Fred, not with narrowed eyes and suspicion. She wanted to brush it off as nothing, but her pride refused to let her forget. Her pride refused to let herself be embarrassed like that. It was a part of herself that she wanted to change, a part she wished was more docile. The part of herself that refused to let things go and move on.

"Just… don't tell anyone, okay?" Hermione asked weakly.

Fred chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the entire family has heard, these walls aren't exactly thick. And we weren't quiet during our little adventure, either. They'll find out, one way or another. There are no secrets in this family."

Hermione still fought. "Please, Fred. They'd tease me endlessly, you know how they are."

Fred sighed in defeat. "Alright, I promise not to tell, as long as you promise not to try and attack innocent intruders anymore."

Hermione laughed. "It's a deal, then."

Fred smiled lightheartedly back at her, and their eyes met. His eyes were a graceful yet untamed blue that she had never appreciated before. She felt as if she was holding onto his gaze like a lifeline in a stormy sea. She remembered the comforting feel of his arms around her, protecting her, keeping her safe. She felt a lump growing in her throat, she felt knots forming in her stomach. She didn't know what was happening, but she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. She learned at an early age that princes didn't exist, it was no use hoping for someone that wasn't real.

She shook her head furiously. Since when had she started seeing Fred in that way? He was her best friend's brother, and yes, he was her friend too, but he was definitely nothing more than that. She blamed it on her nerves that had still not quite loosened, and the sudden contact when he'd caught her. That had to be it. In a few days, she'd be back to her normal self. This strange feeling would go away with time, surely.

She sighed. She really needed that tea right about now.

She turned to go back into the kitchen. Over her shoulder she asked, "I'm making some tea, you're welcome to have some too."

Fred answered, "Sure, I'd like that. Just let me put my stuff away."

Hermione went into the kitchen to pour the hot liquid from the kettle, while upstairs Fred woke up his twin, George, with a shock.

"George, get up, this is important!" Fred jumped up and down on a very angry George's bed.

"What is WRONG with you? It's nearly 4 in the morning, whatever it is can wait!" George yelled from under the covers, the resulting sound being a little muffled but discernable none the less.

"Aw, Georgey, I've been gone for nearly two years and this is all you can say to me? That hurts, my dearest twin. That hurts." Fred put a hand over his heart, acting pained.

George threw his covers off of his bed in a furious huff, obviously distressed at his interrupted sleep. "Alright, what's so important that you had to wake me up at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

Fred looked at him with sudden fury in his gaze. "All this time there was a smoking hott girl living in this house and you didn't tell me?"

Confusion was a word that didn't come close to describing the level of bafflement on George's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione, maybe? George, honestly, you can't say you haven't seen it. She's changed these past two years. There's a beautiful girl living in our house and you didn't even tell me! Ultimate treason, fifty lashes!" Fred bellowed.

George hung his head in his hands. "Oh I should have known this would happen…"

Fred flopped down on the bed, disturbing a considerable number of blankets. "What is that supposed to mean?"

George sighed, the lack of sleep shortening his patience a little. "Hermione hasn't ever gone out with any guys. Have you ever seen her with one? We all thought she'd end up with Ron, and it still hasn't happened. Every time someone asks her out, she just shoots them down. It's like she doesn't want to be with anyone. I don't really understand, but don't get involved. She'll just say no."

Fred looked thoroughly confused for a few moments. "George, you do remember who you're talking to, right? Telling me it's impossible is only going to make me more determined. You should know that better than anyone."

George shook his head. "Seriously, Fred. Let this one go. If she wants to be alone, let her be alone."

"I'll let her make that decision." Fred replied, a grim look of determination on his face.

George rolled his eyes, he knew that words would mean nothing until after Fred had failed. He rolled back underneath the covers, desperate to get the sleep that had been so rudely stolen from him. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Fred." Soon sleep had wrapped its clutches around George once again, and Fred was left standing in his twin's dark room.

"We'll see, George. We'll see." Fred said quietly as he left to meet his challenge.