hihihi, I'm Jess. This is a Fremione fic simply because I was having a lot of feels and I needed to get them out so I word vomited them all over microsoft word. It will be multi-chapter and it's going to span over the entire books so it'll be quite a few chapters I assume, at least that's what I plan.
Enjoy xo

Arrival:

Hermione stared up at the Burrow, her lips tugging into a fond smile as she felt a wave of familiarity wash over her. To her, this place was a second home. She knew the smells, not all of them lovely. She knew which stair to jump over so it didn't creak when her and Ginny were getting late-night snacks. She knew how to shut the Ghoul up, and how to make it angry. She knew the noises, the way the windows whistled and the doors groaned on their own. Her eyes glanced over the mismatched shapes that made up the crooked house, which was so obviously held by magic it was laughable. The squared chimneys puffed out large billows of grey smoke, which could only mean the fires were blazing and Mrs Weasley was cooking. Her eyes rested on one of the upstairs windows, the largest of the four on the third floor. She could just make out the outline of one of the twins waving their arms around manically. She watched as the other came into view, bouncing around everywhere. This twin noticed her looking, and in a second had swung the window open, and begun to serenade her. Hermione let out a small chuckle, and rolled her eyes.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair", she called.

"If you want to come up to my bedroom, Hermione, all you had to do was ask", he said.

Hermione shook her head, ignoring the continuing shouts of the Weasley twins and made her way up the pathway and into the house. Immediately she was hit with the intense smell of beef, and the kitchen was filled with fumes. Knives cut potatoes and carrots and broccoli by themselves in one corner, while a pot was being stirred by what appeared to be nobody. Hermione was well adjusted to this way of life by now, and waved some smoke out of her face just as a body slammed into hers.

"Hermione!"

Laughing, she wrapped her free arm around Ginny's tiny frame and gave her a small squeeze before stepping backwards, "I missed you too" she said, "but at least let me put down my bag."

Ginny said nothing but curled a hand around Hermione's arm and dragged her up the stairs, "let's find Ron, he's been incredibly bored without you and Harry. Do you know when Harry's coming? He's definitely coming, isn't he? I hope he does ... you know for yours and Ron's sake. Not mine. Definitely not mine. I mean -"

"Ginny calm down", said Hermione, "Ron and your Dad are going to pick him up tomorrow, or so Ron said in his last letter."

Hermione could not help but smile at Ginny's infatuation with Harry. She herself, had never really felt that way about a boy before. She secretly wondered what it was like, but would die before admitting that to anyone. She was supposed to be the sensible, school-driven, hard-working, one of the group. She couldn't afford to go jelly-eyed and butterfly-bellied for some boy. That could wait until after Hogwarts, or at least Seventh year. At least. Ginny's cheeks flushed, and she was quiet for around three seconds before -

"It's a shame we won't be sharing a tent with the boys isn't it? Would have been fun -"

"And smelly ... "

"I suppose we'll spend all our time with them besides sleeping, so-"

"Not to mention crowded ..."

"I wonder if Harry will sit beside me at the match."

"And irritating", Hermione concluded.

Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look, before smacking her first against Ron's door. After a moments shuffle, a shout from Percy downstairs reminding them to keep quiet (he had a report due for work on the thickness of cauldrons) and a cry of pain, Ron appeared looking dishevelled and annoyed. His hair was sticking out in all angles, and his obvious lack of sleep was clear in his eyes which were framed by large, black, circles. Ron attempted to give Hermione what was supposed to be a grin, but came out more as a grimace.

"Alright, 'Mione."

"Ron, what is-"

"Oh, if it isn't my dashing prince to rescue you from my tower", called a voice from inside Ron's room.

Hermione peered around Ron's shoulder and instantly spotted the reason behind Ron's fatigue. Instead of the usual two beds that occupied his room, there was now four, squashed side by side leaving little leg room. Lounged across the one nearest to the window was Fred, his eyes dancing with amusement as he acknowledged Hermione.

"Sorry, my hair wasn't long enough to form a ladder, but thank you for taking the stairs", he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "something makes me doubt that you need saving, Fred. More like everyone needs saving from you."

Fred put a hand over his heart in mock hurt, and Hermione suppressed a smile as she waved lazily at George who was leaning against the dresser. He flashed her a grin, almost identical to his brothers, and she smiled back.

"Alright, Granger", he said.

Dinner time:

Fred barged past Charlie and Percy, scooted past Ginny and manoeuvred his way around his mother carrying a hot bowl and Bill carrying a chair. He plonked himself down at the table, being beaten there first only by Ron. That came as no shock, when it came to the Weasley's, these two were champion eaters followed closely by George of course.

"Honestly Fred, the food arrives at the table the same time as it would even if you walked here", Molly scolded.

Fred shrugged, and tapped his fingers against the table as he waited. He was too busy making a rhythm against the wood that he didn't realise the chair next to him move and Hermione sit down until she tapped him gently on the arm.

"Do you want some mashed potatoes?" She asked.

"Of course, one never turns down mashed potatoes", he responded.

He piled his plate high, his eyes never leaving hers as she watched in disbelief. He remembered the last time he'd spoken to her properly. It had been the night Gryffindor had beat Ravenclaw, and redeemed themselves in the race for the Quidditch Cup. The entire tower had been awake and lively, everyone dancing and partying in celebration. Him and George had supplied the house with enough butterbeers, sweets and food for an entire week's worth of festivities. She'd been sat on her own, head buried in a pile of books and paper. Ron still wasn't speaking to her because of the whole rat-cat fiasco, and Harry was stuck in between. Fred had felt sorry for her, he'd seen her by herself a lot lately, and she'd always looked ready to burst into tears. He'd gone over, and sat himself next to her, picking up the book she was reading it and shutting it over.

"Fred!" She'd said shrilly, "I didn't have the page number marked, and I don't have time for stupid games. Give it back!"

Fred had shook his head, his hands clamped tightly on the book, "Hermione, we just won the game. Why don't you come celebrate, you can do this junk tomorrow?"

"No, I can't. I have more work to do tomorrow, and the day after that. I have to finish it tonight. Give. It. Back."

"How about I cut you a deal?"

Hermione made a noise that sounded similar to a growl, "Fred Weasley, you hand me back that book this instant or so help me-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" He wiggled his forefinger at her, "that's not very polite, threatening a fellow student. What would Professor McGonagall say if she could hear you now?"

"She'd commend me on getting rid of the school pesk."

"You kicked out Peeves?"

Hermione's eyes burnt holes into Fred, and he faltered ever so slightly. Normally, girls were easy to talk to. Joke after joke, and they ate out the palm of his hand; but not Hermione Granger. Fred had had no effect on her whatsoever, she'd remained completely insistent on doing work instead of spending time with him. It was a good job Fred wasn't a quitter.

"Fine, just listen to my deal", he said.

"Make it quick."

"I'll give you this delightfully heavy book back, if you have one drink of butterbeer with me, and a pumpkin pastie."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and shrugged, "make it a sugar quill and you're on."

Fred grinned, and had rushed off to gather the supplies, but by the time he'd made it back he'd seen her rushing up to the dormitory leaving Harry forlorn behind her, and Ron looking smug. His baby brother, ladies and gentlemen, forever brass.

"Frederick, if you're finished with the potatoes pass them along, and it's jolly good luck I made two bowls isn't it, young man?"

His mother's voice brought him out of his daydream and he ignored Hermione's curious gaze as he placed the bowl in front of Ron, and helped himself to some runner beans.

Irish Luck

The next two days passed quickly, and before Hermione knew it she was sitting around a campfire, listening to loud cheers and drunken chants as the Irish celebrated their victory at the Quidditch World Cup. The match had been incredible, her stomach had been flip-flopping and goose bumps had risen all over her skin as she'd watch Viktor Krum play. She'd always thought Harry was an amazing seeker, and only ever having watched school Quidditch games she'd never really understood it's potential. Hermione hated flying with a passion, and had never felt the urge to get onto a broom until now. For once, she didn't mind all the Quidditch chatter, and she sat back relaxed in a camping chair listening idly, as her hands were being warmed by a cup of cocoa.

Mr Weasley and Bill were engrossed in an argument about a Quidditch term she didn't understand, Ginny was halfway between sleep and wake, Harry and Charlie were discussing the feint move that Krum had performed and Percy and Ron were fighting over who got the last marshmallow. Her gaze found Fred and George who were sat to her left, cross legged on the floor counting out their winnings. She couldn't help being amused at their child-like expressions, it was like watching six year-olds opening presents on Christmas, but like their mother she couldn't help but become anxious at the prospect of more inventions. Just last year she'd witnessed a fourth-year grow boils the size of eggs on his face, and a seventh-year girl from Slytherin ended up with scales instead of skin.

Fred looked up, his expression questioning as he noticed her watching. She gave him a quick smile, and turned her head towards Ginny.

"What do you suppose they're going to spend their winnings on?" She said.

Ginny responded by a loud grunt, before falling face forward onto the tiny table in front of her, her cocoa going all over the ground. Hermione had been too busy preoccupied wondering about the twins that she hadn't noticed Ginny was asleep. Mr Weasley hustled everybody to bed, and Hermione walked a drowsy Ginny back to their tent. Once Ginny was tucked safely in bed, Hermione lay on her own and stared up at the ceiling. She was just thinking about how much Ron would laugh at her if she asked Harry for flying lessons when the zip to her tent flew open, and in popped a head covered in vivid ginger hair.

"Oy! Granger!"

Hermione sat up, her head colliding with the tent roof and for a second she was blinded by material. After a moment or two of struggling, Hermione managed to climb down from the bunk bed, and creep over towards the doorway. Ginny made a small snuffle behind her, and she frowned as she recognised who it was.

"Fred? Where's George?" She said.

"What? Aren't I good enough?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and wrapped her arms around her body suddenly conscious that she was wearing nothing but her bunny pyjamas.

"Are you cold?" Fred asked.

"No."

"Okay."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments before -

"What do you-"

"So I was think-"

Laughing Fred gestured for Hermione to go first.

"What are you doing here, Fred? Are you looking for Ron or Harry because they're not here."

"I know they're not, I'm sharing a tent with them, remember."

"Oh, right."

"I was just coming to check if you needed another cup of cocoa, because me and George were thinking of getting one."

Hermione looked at her wrist watch, "it's 2:30am."

"We're night owls. What do you say?"

Looking over her shoulder at Ginny, she sighed, "I suppose, I wasn't going to get much sleep anyway."

Following Fred out of the tent she sat herself down in her earlier seat, and watched as he poured them both a cup. The liquid was steaming hot, and Hermione felt instantly happier as she took a quaint sip. She sighed again, this time in satisfaction, and leaned her head against her shoulder. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, and Hermione lost track of time. In all honesty, she hadn't realised Fred could remain quiet for this long. The noises around them weren't getting any quieter, in fact she swore that the commotion was simply building and she watched with bemusement as several Ministry workers dashed past their tent.

"Where do you suppose they're rushing off too?" Fred asked.

"The Irish", said Hermione.

After another couple of minutes, Hermione broke the silence.

"Where's George?"

"You asked that already", Fred said pointedly, "and I'm not sure ... around."

"Well you said he was coming, and he isn't so-", Hermione begun.

"I'm sure he'll come", said Fred impatiently.

Hermione nodded, and this time the silence seemed more strained, though she was unsure why.

"What are you going to spend your winnings on?" she asked, timidly.

Fred's mood only seemed to sour at this question, but before he could respond, loud shouts broke through the atmosphere, and from a distance Hermione could see great amounts of flashing green light. Her and Fred looked at each other, both baffled, just as Mr Weasley came barging out of his tent.

"What are you two still doing up?!" He questioned before waving his hand in the air, "never-mind that. What the bloody hell is going on?"

As if answering his question, Barty Crouch apparated directly in front of their tent. His face was extraordinarily tense, and his sleeves rolled up with his right hand curled tightly around his wand.

"Come, Arthur. Death Eaters, or what we assume to be them - Muggles in danger. Need every hand on deck", he barked before turning on his heel and disappearing again.

Arthur's face drained of colour, "Hermione go and get Ginny and a coat, meet me back here in one minute. Fred, help me wake your brothers."

Disappearing Act

Fred's hand was tight around Ginny's as he pulled her through the crowds of people. The air was filled with terrified shouts and cries, and flashes of green light kept filling the sky. George pointed towards the woods a couple of feet away, and Fred nodded, steering Ginny in that direction. He looked back to check that Hermione and the others were following before plundering through the trees. They ran for what seemed like an hour, but in retrospect was only a couple of minutes, and when he finally pulled Ginny and George to a halt he realised it was only them three left.

"What? Where's Hermione?" he said, his eyes wide with anxiety as he looked around the empty clearing.

George shrugged, his voice tight as he responded, "we must have lost them while running. You know Ron, he probably tripped or something."

Ginny whimpered, and Fred wrapped an arm around her shoulder protectively, "I'm sure they'll find us, Gin."

Nodding in agreement, George gave her a light punch on the arm, "Hermione is the brightest witch I've ever met, and Harry has beat Lord Voldemort like fifty times, and no one's going to mess with Ron after he's been woken at 3am."

Ginny laughed lightly, and Fred patted her arm with his hand. Truth be told, George and his own reassurances did little to qualm his worries. There were death eaters running about and he was certain they'd be able to spot a muggleborn a mile off, especially if said muggleborn was flanked by a Weasley and Harry Potter. Those three had gained a name for themselves, and in this situation it wouldn't do them any favours. He was also annoyed at himself for being so worried. Harry, Ron and Hermione often disappeared, getting themselves into copious amounts of trouble, and he'd never batted an eyelid before. Why, just last year they'd taken on a werewolf and fought Sirius Black and he'd merely clapped his brother on the back. Why was it so different now? He was sure Hermione - and the other two of course - would be perfectly alright. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, and threw himself on the ground signalling the other two to do the same.

After an hour that seemed to stretch on for a day, the noises around them had settled down, and George decided it was probably safe to head back to camp. They'd only been walking for a few minutes, Ginny now slung over Fred's back, her eyelids closed; when something happened that made Fred uneasy all over again. The trees were lit by a harsh light, and as Fred looked upwards his stomach dropped. The dark mark, a hideous skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, hung over the trees ominously. He remembered his father telling them about it when he was younger. Voldemort, and his supporters, would leave it about buildings and places where they'd killed. His mind began to whirl, what if it was someone he knew? Harry? Ron? ... Hermione.

"I think we better get a move on, Freddie", George said, his face a picture of fear as he eyes glanced at Ginny asleep on Fred's back.

Nodding at his brother, he ploughed on, his feet constantly finding broken branches and rabbit holes. The pair stumbled and swore as they pushed their way through the woods towards the place they'd came. Finally, they reached the opening, and with relief found the campsite quiet and mostly abandoned.

"Fred! George!"

Turning towards the voice Fred spotted Bill running towards them, his face covered in light cuts, Charlie close behind, his arm running with blood from a deep gash at his shoulder.

"Ginny, is she hu-"

"No, she's just asleep. She could sleep through a herd of angry hippogriffs, this one", George said calmly as Bill carefully lifted Ginny off Fred.

"Charlie, did you see the-"

"Mark? I think the whole campsite did. It's not exactly small is it?"

"You don't think anybodies ... dead, do you?" Fred asked.

Charlie and Bill shared a look, but were spared from answering as Percy emerged from their tent, his hair ruffled and his face a picture of annoyance as he mumbled on about inconsiderate people, and Mr Crouch. Bill carried Ginny and placed her in his bed, and the five boys sat around the small table in the tent in silence, waiting for their lost friends and father. Twenty minutes later the sound of their father's voice could be heard over a babble of people, and Fred immediately jumped from his seat racing outside closely followed by the others. Immediate relief coursed through his bones the moment he spotted a slightly muddy, but alive and unhurt, Hermione walking beside his brother and Harry.

"Dad, what happened?" Charlie inquired as his father grew closer.

"Messy business", Mr Weasley responded, wiping sweat from his brow as he paused in front of the boys, "Mr Crouch's elf-"

But that was all Fred heard of the story as he moved to step in front of Hermione.

"All right, Granger?"

Hermione smiled exasperated, but there was tight lines around her eyes as she spoke, "fine. You, Weasley?"

"Spiffing."

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking", said a disgruntled Ron, while Harry put his hand in the air and waved, "me too."

Back to Normality:

Before Hermione knew it, the World Cup was behind her and she was seated back at the Gryffindor table. You might be fooled into thinking this meant she was full up with delicious Hogwarts food and pumpkin juice. You would be wrong. Hermione sat cross armed and stubborn as the rest of her house dug into plates of food prepared by house-elves. Slavery, it was. Absolute slavery. After everyone else was finished, Dumbledore began his usual speech about no going in the forest, Filch had banned a lot of items, etc. However, this term he had an unusual announcement. Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione knew before Dumbledore explained exactly what this was - she'd read a ton of history books - and even though she was excited to watch, she'd never dream of entering.

Hermione had enough excitement in her life, what with being friends with Harry and Ron, that she didn't need to go looking for trouble. It usually found her. She'd read of the dangers of the Tournament, and just how many people died during the tasks. She liked her life, thank you very much. She shook her head as she listened to the twins boast of how they'd enter, and Ron's hopeful look at Harry as he tried to persuade his best friend to join.

"Count me out" Hermione whispered.

"Oh, come on Granger, eternal glory!" George whispered back, his eyes glinting with possibilities.

"Not to mention the prize money", Fred added, "I know just what I'd spend that on."

The twins shared a conspiring look, and Hermione pursed her lips, turning her attention back to Dumbledore just as he declared that there would be an age restriction on this year's tournament. Hermione instantly relaxed, at least her closest friends wouldn't be directly in harm's way. She'd be able to enjoy the competition more if she wasn't having to watch one of her friends dodge deadly tasks. Her friends however, did not agree with her. The Gryffindor table erupted in shouts, the other three houses joining in. The twins were the loudest.

"That's pathetic!" George catcalled.

"We're seventeen in April, they can't stop us entering", Fred said to Hermione, a look of pure determination clear on his face.

Lee, a sixth year Gryffindor and the twins closest friend leaned across the table, "there's got to be a way we can hoodwink this judge. If they accept us, there's no way Dumbledore can disagree. He doesn't have a say."

Ron nodded in agreement, "Hermione, you must know a way that we can age ourselves, just a little."

Hermione shook her head, "if you think I'm going to help you lot illegally enter a dangerous competition behind Dumbledore's back, think again."

"Maybe it's a good thing", Harry said quietly, "we could do with a relaxed year at Hogwarts."

Ron looked forlorn at his best friend, and mumbled something under his breath before nodding, "suppose."

Fred and George's faces were identical as they shook their heads in disappointment, "such little commitment to the cause", George said.

"A drop of aging potion ought to do it", Fred finished.

Hermione huffed loudly in disapproval, and pushed herself up from her seat.

"I'm going to bed" she announced to nobody in particular before following the crowds of Gryffindor's heading up to the tower.

(Realisation)

Hard rain poured against the windows of Gryffindor tower, and even though Fred was wrapped warmly in last-years Christmas sweater and extremely woolly socks, a slight shiver travelled up his spine. It had been a few weeks since the announcement of the tournament, and Halloween and the arrival of the foreign students was creeping upon Hogwarts ominously. Fred and George were now sat altering an aging potion, with Lee propped lazily at their sides his head resting against his arms as he hummed along with the radio. The tower wasn't particularly crowded this afternoon, most people already down in the Great Hall for dinner. George pressed his knife down upon a bean and it bounced into the air, ricocheting off a nearby lampshade and landing in the centre of the common room.

"Get that for me would you, Lee", George said.

Lee made a giant show of attempting to get up before collapsing back into his previous position, "I would but my legs seemed to have stopped working, as has my back and my arms and, oh, Fred would you get that for George."

Giving them both a withering look Fred said, "I'll get it then."

Pushing himself out of his chair, he wandered over to retrieve the fly-away bean, mumbling to himself about laziness, when his body collided with another. Fred coughed, as the wind was knocked out of him, and he looked down to see a pile of bushy, brown, curls and a disgruntled Hermione laying underneath them.

"Wotcher, Hermione", Fred said, offering her his hand.

She grabbed it, pulling herself back onto her feet before bending down to collect all the missing badges that were spread across the floor. Fred scooped one up in his hand and frowned at the four letters that sat across it.

"S-P-E-W? Save Potter -"

"It's got nothing to do with Harry", Hermione said, snatching the badge back.

"Alright, keep your hair on", Fred said.

Hermione blew a strand of hair out of her eye, before staring at Fred. Her narrowed gaze quickly turned into a hopeful one. Fred took a step back.

"Buy a badge", Hermione ordered.

"Er - why?" Fred asked.

"Because if you wear one, and George too, your groupies will wear them too and then I'll build awareness."

Fred started, "my groupies?"

"Yes, you know, the girls who hopelessly fawn over your every movement, and all wear over-sized, obnoxiously coloured, Christmas sweaters in June to be like you two. The ones who pretend to enjoy pranks, when they haven't got a funny bone between them and they cheer you on at Quidditch when they despise flying and don't understand the game, and would much prefer to be inside painting their nails and giggling over something you said six months ago", Hermione inhaled sharply before continuing, "don't pretend not to know what I'm talking about."

Fred knew that he and George attracted quite a lot of female attention. That was mostly down to the fact they could charm anyone, even McGonagall, and the fact they were hilariously good-looking. He ignored Hermione's speech, trying not to think about how she'd just described someone the exact opposite to her.

"What's the badges for?"

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare", Hermione said simply.

"Excuse you?" Fred said.

"House-elves need someone to stand up for them. They're appalling mistreated and underrated."

"No", Fred said.

"Why not?"

"House-elves love to work. It's in their genes. You'll make them miserable, I've seen them in the kitchens, they're happier than most people I know."

Hermione growled, stuffing the badges she held in her hand back in the box and storming past Fred.

"Hermione, wait!"

She spun on her heel, and inclined an eyebrow, but didn't respond.

"I'll make you a deal. Beat me at a game of Quidditch, just penalties and just us two, and I'll get me and George to wear the stupid badges."

Hermione frowned, but nodded her head, "fine."

"Fine", said Fred.

Scowling, Hermione continued her pursuit upstairs and Fred picked up the bean and plonked himself back down next to George.

"Did you, or did you not, just ask Granger on a date?" George asked.

Fred laughed loudly, and threw the bean at George's head, " jealous you didn't get there first, twinny?"

"No he'd much rather take Katie on a date", Lee teased.

"Pretty sure that's you, lover boy", George retorted, puckering his lips and blowing fake kisses.

Shrugging, Lee grinned, "at least I'm not after a younger woman."

"I'm not after anything", Fred insisted, the tips of his ears going pink, "it's just a bet so she'll leave the poor house-elves alone. I like my food and service the way it is thank you very much."

George smirked, "I think that's not the only thing you like. I think you like a certain know-it-all who has a fondness for underprivileged creatures and hair that looks permanently electrocuted."

"Oh, what will Angelina think?" Lee added.

It was now Fred's turn to scowl, "she won't think anything, because there's nothing too think. It's not a date, it's a bet. Anyway, she's not even my girlfriend we've just snogged a few times."

"A lot of times", George sniggered.

"Who you taking on a date?"

All three boys looked up to see Angelina and Katie stood over them. Angelina's eyebrow was raised questioningly, her arms crossed across her chest.

George winked at Katie, "you alright, Bell."

Katie rolled her eyes, but grinned back.

Fred smiled sweetly at Angelina, but her face didn't grow any softer.

"Who are you taking on a date, Fred?" She asked.

Hermione then took that ample opportunity to race back down the stairs, "oh, Fred, we didn't pick a time! I have a lot of homework. How about Thursday night?"

DUN DUN DUN. Reviews are like life to a fic, if you don't, I can't write.
SO DO.

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