AN: I own absolutely nothing except my own plot ideas.

George POV:

"C'mon Georgie, it's getting late! If we don't leave soon, Perce is going to come back from his rounds and bust us!" Fred's whisper carried harshly across the Gryffindor common room to where George sat near the fire, rummaging through his sack of supplies.

"I know that, you dimwit! We can't just run out into the corridor without our secret ingredient though, can we? I'm just double checking to make sure it fits in here."

"Well hurry up, it's nearly eleven!"

With a last look at the grandfather clock in the corner, George hastily shoved the flask into his bag and rushed out the door to meet his twin.

"Glad you could find it within your heart to meet me here," Fred said with a smirk, "What a shame it would've been to carry on this mission without you."

George glared. Just once, it would be nice to have Fred be the responsible one of the two of them. Punching him lightly in the shoulder, George began walking towards the dungeons. "Shove off, Forge."

An hour later, clutching his side and wiping tears from his eyes, the two stumbled into the Gryffindor common room, intent on the post-prank run-down. George ran to the couch to warm himself- In their (Fred's) haste to begin their prank, George had neglected to grab his jumper, now he was paying for it- and pulled a small scroll from his pocket, and summoned an errant quill off a table.

"Alright Freddie, by your count, how many Slytherins did we get out of their beds?" he questioned, ready to mark the tally. No response.

"Fred? You still there? Is everything alri-" George turned around from his position on the couch to see his brother with a peculiar look on his face, one that he last remembered seeing when Fred let Ginny fly with him on a broom and she fell off, and nearly snapped her ankle. He put his finger to his lips, and then pointed towards a corner of the common room that we often avoided: the "library".

Perhaps 'library' is a strong term, it's honestly more of a collection of books on opposing shelves that students have left behind year after year, many filled with notes, doodles, and not-so-flattering drawings of everyone's favorite Potions professor. Between the two sets of shelves, there was a rather large rectangular table, well-suited for projects that required collaboration. Fred and George had set foot in the school library precisely four times, therefore it should come as no surprise that they rarely frequented this corner, but this evening was different, it would appear.

Percy had finished his rounds nearly an hour ago now, and most students were long gone to bed, fast asleep with dreams of the next Quidditch match dancing through their minds, and yet...someone was there, a girl, it seemed. Her brown mass of hair was haphazardly tied back in some sort of a ponytail, and her head was inclined slightly forward to be in her hands. Fallen asleep doing homework, what a shame. Bet they didn't realize that was a go-ahead whistle for being pranked. It wasn't until he went to ask Fred for his opinion on charmed chewing gum in her hair that George noticed the shaking. Every few seconds, her whole body gave a monstrous shudder, as if she had forgotten how to breathe and every minute that she sat there, her ability diminished further. She was crying. Well, that certainly changed things.

"George, I need you to grab my satchel very quietly," his brother whispered out of the corner of his mouth. George raised an eyebrow at that request but said nothing. He still wasn't quite sure who this mystery girl was, she seemed small -a first-year maybe?- and he was never particularly fond of approaching weepy women, so he passed the satchel over to his brother, and made a subconscious decision to let him handle this. George watched as Fred pulled a sheet of parchment out of the satchel, whispered a short phrase, and let the castle blueprints unfold onto the paper. His eyes grew wide as he identified their concealed companion. He mouthed it to George, and initially, all his brother could read from him was "hurt my knee" -confusing, as they hadn't done anything particularly taxing.

Suddenly the map was flying at him, and it was all George could to do catch it before it knocked something off a table and alerted their female friend to their presence. George glanced down at the map; Hermione Granger, of course. But why was she crying? He raised my eyebrows towards his twin, and from the look Fred sent back, he had as much of an idea as George did. After a series of gestures, George paled as he realized that Fred was planning to approach her. Catching the change in his brother's complexion, Fred gestured him upstairs, telling him to go on ahead, he'd be up in a moment after he'd talked with her. You sure? George asked with his eyes. Yes, of course, now go!

Not one to question him further (not now at least), George headed up the stairs to the Boys' dormitories and promptly fell into bed, his body aching for sleep, but his mind willing him to stay awake until his brother returned.

Half an hour later, Fred stumbled into the room, shut the door and leaned against it, a curious expression on his face. George whispered his name and he started, clearly having assumed that everyone would be asleep.

Fred turned, his hands against the door for a moment, before facing his brother again. "That one's going to be a handful for us, Georgie. I can feel it in my bones."

Beyond exhausted from their late night escapade, George nodded half-heartedly and mumbled something about saving this conversation for the morning before rolling over into his sheets, all thoughts of interrogating his twin forgotten.

Fred POV:

Fred walked back into the common room with George, fully prepared to discuss the logistics of their prank. 34 Slytherins running out of the dungeons and shrieking as brightly colored powder appeared to infiltrate their living areas, what a sight!

As they moved towards the fireplace, Fred heard a sniff and froze. There, in the twins' least favorite corner of the common room, was a girl, sitting with her head in her hands, and her body vibrating with deep sobs every few seconds.

"Alright Freddie, by your count, how many Slytherins did we get out of their beds?" George attempted to ask him. He, however, was transfixed by this girl. She couldn't have been more than 12 years old, a second-year at best. Those were harsh cries for an underclassman. As Fred wondered who it might be, he heard George begin to ask him again and then freeze mid-question when he saw his brother halted. Fred put his finger to his lips and gestured towards the corner, watched as the wheels turned in his twin's mind, and waited until he saw the moment that it all clicked for him.

"George, I need you to grab my satchel very quietly," he whispered as best he could out of the side of his mouth. A look of confusion flit across George's face, but he did as asked, and handed Fred the bag, which held, among other things, a bottle of Butterbeer, some Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, and approximately twelve crumpled up pieces of parchment with caricatures of various professors. Fred rummaged around until his fingers brushed the worn piece of parchment that he was looking for.

Pulling it out, he whispered "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and watched as ink began to bleed onto the surface, highlighting the layout of Hogwarts. He shifted his gaze to the Gryffindor common room, read the name of their unknown friend, and felt his eyes grow wide at the name. Hermione Granger.

Fred attempted to mouth the name to his brother, but he failed to put together the syllables. Instead, Fred sent the map flying towards his head. He saw George examine the map, his eyes falling on the name of the girl who sat before them, and suddenly jerk his head up to look at his twin nervously. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask if Fred knew why she was in tears. Of course not, I've got no clue! Fred gestured to himself, then walking with two fingers, then talking, then pointed towards Hermione. George paled, always one to avoid emotional moments, if possible. Fred motioned towards the staircase, telling his brother to go on ahead, he'd surely be up in a minute or two. George raised his eyebrow as if to ask Fred's certainty, and Fred waved him forward, Yes, of course, now go!

Now what? Fred asked himself. You barely know this girl, what are you going to do? He was right. They were barely a month into the school year, he barely knew any of the first years, except for Harry Potter, of course. And Ron. It's possible he bumped into her on the platform, or maybe the train, but still...That didn't warrant any attempts at comfort. But here he was, committed to being a good person, if only because he knew George was sitting in his bed upstairs just waiting to grill him on the conversation he was about to have.

"C'mon now, eleven is a rough year, but it couldn't possibly be that dreadful," the red-head joked, hoping that his attempt at humor would give her the inclination to speak to him, or at least to smile. Merlin, Fred thought, I can't deal with weepy girls.

She raised her head halfway, only enough to look into the window at her reflection, exasperated, and mutter something about pre-pubescence before lowering it back onto her hands.

"I hate to be this way, but I've no idea what you've just said, and there isn't quite room for me to join you. Care to turn around and be witness to the most dashing ginger you've ever seen?" Fred smirked at that line, even though she couldn't see him, and then cringed a bit. Typical. You're trying to comfort the girl, not make her swoon, you idiot! These opinions were sounding more and more like they were being voiced by his twin, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Fred looked up and the girl was staring at him oddly, still sniffling, but looking much more capable of her respiratory functions than she had upon George and his arrival.

"Fred or George?" she questioned.

"What does it matter, really? Isn't it enough to know that I'm the more handsome between us?"

She sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips, the sniffling slowing down, but still irritating, evidently.

"I promise I'm not here to prank you," Fred offered. "I only meant to see if you were alright. It's not every day that you see firsties crying in the common room unless Snape's been really awful. He hasn't hexed you or anything, has he?"

"No, of course not! He's a professor, why would he ever…" she trailed off, "that was a joke, wasn't it?"

"It was meant to be. Apparently, it was rubbish, based on your reaction, though."

"I'm dreadfully sorry, I just..I...I'm a bit out of sorts right now. That's not to say that normally I would've laughed at the joke either, to be perfectly honest, I probably would've missed the humor altogether, but now I'm rambling and making you uncomfortable and I'll just be leaving now." She rotated herself towards the desk and began gathering her materials.

"Granger, wait," Fred called out. She froze for a moment, and then turned back to face him, face flushed, nose red, and eyes puffy from the still-unexplained crying. "I didn't mean to poke fun at you like that-really I didn't!" he countered as she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "All I wanted was to make sure you were alright, honestly. I didn't mean to make you feel any worse than you already did-I just wanted to know why you were upset. It's my duty as Head Prankster of Hogwarts to make sure that all students are served smiles and laughs when they need them most."

Hermione looked at him with tear filled eyes, and in a split second, he knew what was coming. The tears came back with a vengeance, and began to make their way down her face again; in apparent discomfort with the situation, she hoisted her legs onto the stool and buried her face in her knees. Sighing, and cursing the entire female first-year population, Fred approached her slowly, and reached out to touch her knee.

"Granger...Hermione?" he paused, unsure about where to go from here. "What's the matter?"

"Why do you care? Why," she hiccuped, "should I even bother to tell you? You're Ronald's older brother, you'll just pass on everything I say to him and give him more ammunition!"

The clock chimed and Fred winced. It was getting late, and he wasn't sure he could carry on this conversation for very long if she fought him.

"Granger, I'm wounded that you think so little of me! When a friend is crying, it is absolutely despicable to neglect to help them. Besides, my brother's a prat, he doesn't need my help putting his foot in his mouth. Come on, you know you'll feel better if you get it out." Fred reasoned.

"I suppose you're right...It's just…" she hiccuped again, "I don't have any friends. Every hates me because I study and I know the material, but I only did that because I knew nothing about this world before July, when I got my letter, and I didn't want to be eons behind everyone else here who grew up knowing everything about magic, but they hate me anyway, and everyone says I'm a know-it-all and a nightmare and I...I…" she paused again, angrily wiping tears from her cheeks. "I want to go home. I'd give up magic if it meant I wouldn't be hated like this." She took a breath to compose herself and continued. "Your brother sits next to me during the lessons and mutters under his breath about what a terror I am, and why no one would want to be friends with me and to make it all worse everyoneforgotmybirthday," she rattled out in one breath.

"What was that last part there?"

"Everyone forgot my birthday," she said in a small voice. "It's not that I was expecting much, not really anything except for maybe a head-nod or something trivial, but instead it seemed like Harry and Ronald and Lavender and Parvati-well, I suppose not Harry, he's just always around so I always tack him on with Ron- went out of their way to make the day miserable." She sniffled again, and muttered something about stupid girls and crying at her party if she wanted to.

"Did you get an owl from your parents, at all? Surely they didn't forget about your birthday!"

"They're muggles, they don't know how to use the owl-post. They were more taken aback than I was about the prospect of an entire world that's been operating under their noses… So no, I didn't. I told you, there was nothing. Merlin, this is nothing! All of this is pointless and you don't need to sit here and listen to me ramble about how miserable I am right now. If I were you, I would've walked right past me with my nose up, gloating about that prank you pulled on the Slytherins, and not given me a second glance, and I certainly wouldn't have stuck around to listen to a twelve-year-old complain about her life. What are you still doing here, anyhow? I would've thought you'd run off by now."

Fred swallowed, a bit nervously. He really was never the best with handling emotional people, but here he was, stepping up to bat.

"I thought that maybe tonight would be a good night to celebrate your birthday. When was it originally?" He heard himself say, not fully committed to this idea, but offering it forward regardless.

"September 19th. But how do you plan to-" Fred cut her off, quickly jumping up from his crouched position in front of her, and spinning in a circle.

"No more words from you, just follow me and tonight, October 7th, will become your newest and favoritest holiday, Birthday II!"

She chuckled from behind him. Thank Merlin she's laughing, I don't know if I could've taken another round of tears.

"Oi, you over there! What's so funny?"

"It's just that it's not the seventh anymore- the clock rang out for midnight a while ago- it's the eighth now," she said, blushing into her hands.

"Well then, M'lady, I suppose we'll have to make sure that the October-iest day in October doesn't go to waste, now won't we? Come along!" He moved towards the entrance to the common room and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the unmistakable scratching of the stool against the floor, and then the light footsteps of his companion.

"Uh Fred?" she ventured quietly from behind him, as he opened the door.

"Yes, Miss Hermione of the Grangers?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

"That, mademoiselle, is my surprise fo-hold on! You called me Fred! How did you know?"

With that, they made their way down to the kitchens for some cauldron cakes and a well-deserved round of butterbeer, in celebration of Birthday II, England's newest holiday.

Luckily for them both, no one was patrolling the corridors during our trek there or back. Even luckier, Hermione had stopped crying, and instead was engaging Fred in a heated debate about House Elves for the entire duration of the journey back.

He shook his head and chuckled as they re-entered the common room.

"It would appear that my work here is done. Lady Granger, is there any more that I can do to assist you this fine evening...err morning?"

She blushed and shook her head, making her way towards the 'library' to gather her things.

"Kind sir, I do believe you've done plenty of charitable work this fine day," she said while returning to face the Girls' dormitories and Fred, who stood in the center of the common room. "Please, retire to your sleeping quarters to rest, and do inform me if there is ever a way to repay you for this debt."

She curtsied. He bowed. Fred moved to make her way back to the dormitories easier, as she walked past. She reached the top of the stairs, paused for a moment, then placed her bag down and raced down the steps to stand in front of hime.

"Fred?"

"Yes, Granger?"

She paused, debating something for a moment, before whispering "Thank you" and ascending on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Anytime," he muttered weakly, as she climbed the stairs yet again, and disappeared behind the dormitory door with a slight wave. "Anytime at all."

Moments later, Fred made his way up to his room, entered quietly, and rested with his back against the door, working through what just happened.

He heard his name and jumped, startled out of his reverie by his brother. Merlin, if he sees the look on my face, I'll be dead for sure! Fred turned to face the door for a moment to clear his head, and to make his face unreadable for his twin, drumming his fingers on the door frame before turning around.

"That one's going to be a handful for us, Georgie. I can feel it in my bones."

George muttered something about finishing this conversation tomorrow as Fred headed over to his trunk, put on pajamas and climbed into bed, content to dream about bushy-haired twelve-year-olds, house elves, and butterbeer scented kisses.

a/n: Welcome to Left Unsupervised- let me know what you think in the reviews!

Next Time on Left Unsupervised: Ron is a jerk, Hermione is reading, Fred gets into a scintillating discussion about butterbeer