The night was still, not a single sound or movement disturbing it. You could walk down a corridor and hear nothing but you own solitary footsteps. Except, you shouldn't be hearing your footsteps, because you should be in bed; unless you want to be caught by Hermione Granger, who was doing her nightly rounds before retiring to bed.

She was listening contentedly to said sound of her lonely footsteps, when she stopped. She thought she had heard a sound. She shook her head, letting out a quiet chuckle. She had rounded these corridors at least eight times already; surely no one had braved sneaking out now. She began walking again, when she heard the noise repeat itself.

It was a small noise, almost like a gasp. Or maybe it was a moan. She stood still, listening to the dead night, wondering if she would hear it again.

Moments later, there it was. She had assumed correctly. It was a moan. But, the strange thing was, it sounded familiar. Not that she made people moan often, or, at all, really, but the voice sounded very familiar. She stepped towards the sound, and upon discovering it was just around the corner, listened in.

"F-fred!" The moan voice whispered loudly. "Be w-ary of the prefects. You know Hermione likes to walk these halls twenty times before bed."

"Don't be such a worry wart, George, dear." Another voice returned. "I'm sure she's safe in bed by now."

Hermione had to hold back her own gasp. The voices belonged to Fred and George Weasley! The twins! She peered around the corner as discreetly as she could.

There they were. Fred had his identical brother pushed up against a wall, one of his legs hiked up on Fred's hip. He was wearing his school slacks and white shirt, with almost all of the buttons undone.

Fred's fingers trace George's sides lightly, and the submissive twin shudders at the touch. Their faces are close, cheeks grazing. Fred's hand trails down, and he takes George's hips lightly, pulling him closer so that their lips barely touch. He sucks on his twin's lip, licking and nipping on it. Hermione can she George is trying to hold back his cries as best he can. His eyes are shut tight and his fingers are gripping the hair on Fred's neck enough to pull at it.

Fred pulls back, arms still wrapped around the waist of his mirror image. George gives a pleading glance, and Fred obliges almost immediately, pressing his lips hard and passionately against his brothers. One hand moved from his waist to cup his cheek gently, while the one still stationary on the hip traced patterns there, pinching lightly here and there.

Hermione tried to get a better view, but tripped, hitting the ground hard on her elbow. She inadvertently let out a surprised yelp, causing Fred and George to break apart. They spun towards Hermione, both with a shocked look. Hermione stood to her feet, embarrassed. She brushed herself of, trying not to look at how disheveled George looked.

"You two should be in bed." She managed to get out. "It is way past curfew. I will be having Professor McGonagall give you three Saturdays' detentions…" She turned to walk away, "Privately…"

Red smirked, glancing sideways at his twin as their spunky brunette friend flounced away.