Interchangeable

It was hard to say which Weasley was more difficult to face these days: Ron or Ginny. Ron was stubborn and disgusted, as she'd expected. When she'd first told him, he had alternated between retching and bellowing at her for nearly half an hour. He was and always would be one of her best friends, though, and after the initial shock had worn off, he'd handled it like he handled everything he didn't like.

He ignored it.

Hermione had, at first, been hurt by his silence. After a while, she began to understand it. For Ron, Hermione dating Fred and George was the equivalent of a Potions essay back at Hogwarts. He didn't understand it, he didn't want to understand it, but, eventually, the deadline would pass, someone would handle it for him, and he'd never have to worry about it again. Confused and disgusted as he was, he still trusted Hermione implicitly- trusted her to make a decision in the end. More importantly, he trusted her to make the right decision, something she wasn't even sure existed.

Ginny was different.

Aside from Bill, the twins were Ginny's favorite siblings. In truth, they probably were her favorite siblings as her hero-worship of Bill had faded since his marriage to Fleur. The fact that the Veela could deal with her husband being a werewolf didn't change the fact that Ginny found her insufferable and blamed Bill for her connection with the family. The twins had never done anything that Ginny did not understand, did not expressly approve of. They made trouble, they raised hell. Ginny liked that. She understood that.

She did not understand what was happening between the twins and one of her best girl friends.

"What do you mean, Fred and George?" Ginny asked sharply, brown eyes narrowed as she glared at the pale woman across from her.

Hermione swallowed, keeping her hands clasped firmly in her lap so that Ginny wouldn't see them shaking. A sign of weakness- any sign of weakness- and Ginny would pounce, shattering Hermione's resolve. She was uncomfortably aware of the other patrons of the Three Broomsticks- almost all of them peaking over their shoulders or leaning closer to listen to Hermione and Ginny's conversation. A third of the Golden Trio and Harry Potter's girlfriend at one table? It was nothing short of a spectacle.

"Ginny, don't be angry. It's not- it's not permanent," Hermione falters, all too aware of the truth of that statement.

The red-headed woman shook her head slightly, pulling her mug of butterbeer closer. "I don't give a damn about the permanence of the relationship…relationships at this point. I want to know when this started! What happened for you to end up with-with the twins? Of all people, Hermione…" Ginny trailed off, watching her friend carefully. It could have been a thousand things that started it. One event jumped out from the blur of images in her mind.

In her first year, everyone had hated her. Know-it-all and snob followed her down the hallways like stinging insects, whispered from every corner. Harry and Ron were the closest she'd had to friends- and, back then, even they'd hated her. She spent her days holed up in the library, spent mealtimes with her nose firmly pressed into a book (most times she didn't even read- just held the book in place so she didn't have to see the way people looked at her), spent her nights sitting in bed with the curtains pulled closed around her because the other girls liked to tease her if they knew she was awake.

Then she'd met Fred.

She'd met him before, of course. There really weren't that many people at Hogwarts when you got down to it, and you knew everyone, at least by face, within a week. He and George had been the first to make snarky comments about her pile of books in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione had been sitting in the library, flipping through Hogwarts, A History. She loved the book more than anything at the time. It made her feel as if she were actually a part of the wizarding world, as if she really belonged at Hogwarts. Even if she didn't have a group of friends to sit with, no family history within the Hogwarts walls, she knew the school itself. It was hers.

She was reading for the hundredth time the chapter on Helga Hufflepuff. Hermione loved Helga, almost as much as she admired Rowena. It was largely thanks to Helga that Hermione was even allowed to attend Hogwarts.

"What do you have there, Grindel?"

Hermione nearly dropped her book, terrified by the voice so close to her. No one talked to her. Ever. She looked up from the moving painting of Helga (she'd never get used to that), and found herself staring at one of the redheaded twins.

"My name is Granger," she corrects him automatically. Even she doesn't like how superior her voice sounds.

"That's what I said," the boy said dismissively, grinning at her.

She was eleven, and not entirely sure why the way he smiled made her cheeks burn red. Suddenly, every awkward thing about her appearance had stood out a hundred-fold in her mind. Bushy hair. Buckteeth. A bit chubby. Pigeon-toed. Dirty nails. Hermione tried to hide her hands in her robes, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Don't know if anyone's told you," he went on, "but exams aren't until the end of the year. We're on week three right now, not that I'm keeping count. You might want to calm down with the studying unless you want to wear yourself out."

Hermione, for the first time in her memory, could find no words to respond. Her wealth of knowledge did not deal with this- with speaking to anyone of the opposite gender about anything other than complete, uncontestable fact.

The boy sat down across from her, pulling the book in front of him.

"Never read this, myself. Is it any good?"

Hermione likes that question. She knows the answer. Her head nods enthusiastically, and suddenly words are bubbling from her mouth, a thousand kilometers a minute. She sees his eyes widen, unprepared for the mass of information she's throwing at him about- everything! The thickness of the walls, the enchantments on the lake, the founders, the kitchens… Hermione can't stop herself. The more confused his face gets, the more nervous she gets, the more she talks.

Finally, he starts laughing.

Her voice trails off, and then she realizes that she's started crying. It takes him a moment, but he realizes it, too.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he says, holding up his hands as if he's trying to calm a wild horse. "Hey, now, Granger, what's wrong?"

Hermione covers her face with her hands, aware for the first time in her life of how ugly crying must make her look. The boy is beside her, kneeling on the floor so that he can pull at her hands.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down! Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"I-i-it's not you! I-i-I'm awf-f-f-f-ful!" she wails, turning away from him. "I'm such a d-d-dreadful know-it-all. Everyone h-hates me!" The sobs wrack her whole body, shaking the chair and the table as well.

He doesn't say anything for a long, long time, and finally, she stops crying. Clearly, he's left, so she uncovers her face and prepares to go to her dormitory, to sleep it away. He hasn't left though. He's still kneeling right there, watching her intently with those warm brown eyes.

"Fuck 'em."

Hermione's eyes widen, and she can't do anything but stare at him. It's not the first time she's heard the word, but it's the first time anyone's said it to her.

"W-what?" she stammers after a moment, sure she misunderstood.

"I said, fuck 'em. Just because you're smart and they're jealous doesn't mean you've got to be miserable. Hell, if Georgie and I could stomach learning at all, we'd be jealous of you, too."

She smiles a little, her cheeks burning again.

He grins back, so broadly that little dimples pop up. "Besides, everyone doesn't hate you. George and I make fun of everyone, so don't mind us."

That makes her feel better, too. They included her, then. Being made fun of by the twins was like a rite of passage, and they'd accepted her.

He stays for another moment, just long enough for her to count the freckles on his left cheek, and then bounces onto his feet, startling her.

"I'm supposed to be on the lookout for Filch- Georgie and I are up to a bit of trouble, you know." He winked at her and turned to go, but paused and spun back around. "Granger, if things ever get too bad, you know where to find me."

"In detention?" she asks automatically, and he laughs. She likes that.

"Usually, yeah. One more thing. If anyone's a git to you, tell 'em Fred and George said to lay off. And if they're still a git, just let us know. We can handle it easy-peasy."

He gives a final parting smile, and then darts off. Later, he'd end up with a week's worth of detention for locking Mrs. Norris in a broom closet. That was her first real memory of Fred Weasley.

Back in the present, she still couldn't answer Ginny's question. As interesting as the memory was, it didn't explain anything.

"I think… Ginny, I don't know. It's like- since the war, I've just been… Things have been… Everything is…" Hermione groans, putting her head in her hands. This was giving her a massive headache.

Ginny sighs, leaning on the table and watching Hermione thoughtfully. "Let's break it down then. You said you've got a year to decide. When was that little plan put in place?"

"About three months ago," Hermione answer automatically. Facts. Facts are good. She can handle facts.

"Okay, so three months ago… When you got back from your father's funeral." Ginny's voice is quiet, more reserved now.

Hermione fights back the wave of anguish, the all consuming pain of that truth. "Yes."

"So you came back from Australia, and then…?"

"And then…" Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing. I went to bed that night after I got back, and the next morning I couldn't move. I laid there in my bed for two days, unable to move a muscle."

Ginny's eyes go wide with concern. "What the hell was wrong?"

Hermione's lips pull up at one corner. "The doctor described it as 'classic burnout syndrome.' Apparently, working nonstop for twenty years with no break is bad for your health."

Ginny smiles wryly, rolling her eyes. "So what does this have to do with the twins?"

"They were the ones that found me. I was supposed to go meet with them to discuss the financial viability of opening another store, but I never showed up. When I didn't answer their owls, they got worried. The second day, I heard two people apparate into my living room, and then… there they were."

"What'd they do?"

"They took me to St. Mungo's. Stayed with me the whole time. The doctor said that I just needed to…stop." Ginny snorted, and Hermione had to smile as well. "Then the twins just…wouldn't let me go. They said if I went back to my apartment, I'd clean the whole thing top to bottom, end up back at work before the day was over, and end up catatonic in my bed again within a week. So they sort of…kidnapped me, I suppose."

"I can believe that. When they're determined to do something, it's impossible to say no to them," Ginny conceded.

"It is. I was there for maybe… maybe a week before it became clear that something was going on. I think I've always had a thing for each of them, but it became nearly unbearable, living under the same roof. It became clear that it wasn't just a thing. I really… they mean a lot to me."

Hermione and Ginny stared each other down for a moment, Ginny waiting for a better explanation and Hermione determined to keep the rest of her memories to herself.

"You told Mum and Dad, then?"

"They took it better than expected. George handled Molly."

"Mum's always had a soft-spot for George, I think."

The conversation fades into uncomfortable silence, and finally Ginny stands to leave. Hermione follows her out into Hogsmeade, following a step behind her as they head up to the Hogwarts' gates. Then they reach them, Ginny stops, rounding on her friend.

"Hermione, I'm not going to tell you I understand, because I don't. You and the twins…I never saw anything between you and either of them. I still can't picture it. If this is what you want, though, if this is what is going to happen, I just want you to be careful. They're my brothers, Hermione, and I love them. And I love you as well. At the moment, I just can't see this ending well."

Hermione's stomach turned. She'd been thinking the same thing for about three months now. Ginny pulled her into a hug.

"Look out for them, will you? They aren't as strong as they seem. And look out for yourself as well. Don't work so hard."

"I will. And I won't," Hermione said, forcing herself to smile at what might very well one day be her sister. She watched Ginny enter the gates and make her way back up to the school. When she couldn't catch sight of the flaming red hair anymore, Hermione apparated away to Diagon Alley.

"Where've you been?" George asked as she entered the shop moments later.

"Talking with Ginny," Hermione answered simply, leaning beside him on the counter. He watched her from the corner of his eye, and she looked back at him, smiling slightly.

"You seem happier than I thought you'd be," he observed after a moment.

"She handled it better than I thought she would. She's not angry or even disgusted. She's just…confused."

"That's understandable."

Fred swept up to them, his hair sticking out at odd angles and his face red.

"What on earth have you been doing?" Hermione demanded, reaching out to comb his hair back into some semblance of order.

"Been chasing some kids out of the Of Age section. I swear, these little blighters will be the death of me," he grumbles, but Hermione sees the smile tugging at his lips. He loves the kids that wreak havoc in the shop. They remind him of himself and George.

When the last customers trickle out of the store, Hermione follows the twins around as they lock up the store. She doesn't like not doing anything, but she has to admit that she feels better than she ever has. Aside from the constant debate in the back of her mind, she'd never been happier.