Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.

A/N: Written for Roll-A-Prompt 2018, hosted by Hermione's Haven. This entry won First Place in the Overall Favorite category, so yay! And thanks to all who read and voted!

Prompt: Bill/Hermione, Potions Accident

Kiss and Tell

Fred and George Weasley were entrepreneurial geniuses—nay, savants. Everything they created became overnight sensations. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes churned out one smashing product after another. Wildfire Whizbangs and Demon Dungs filled every dormitory at Hogwarts. Filch dedicated an entire closet to confiscated Wonderwitch potions. Across the country, no self-respecting wizard under the age of seventeen went without a Bombtastic Bomb in his pocket.

WWW dominated the Hogwarts demographic.

Yet Gred and Forge—as they still referred to themselves, adulthood be damned—weren't satisfied. Everyone credited Percy as the most ambitious Weasley, often dismissing the twins for their lack of gravitas. But ambitious they were, and clever to boot—which is why they were at the Burrow one Saturday night, using its inhabitants as guinea pigs.

"Bottoms up!" Fred slid three glasses of bubbling pink liquid across the dining room table. Molly and Arthur were away on holiday—so, naturally, he and George took over the kitchen to brew new concoctions. Just like the old days, Fred had said nostalgically just as a volatile potion cracked another one of Molly's pots.

Three pairs of eyes stared at the potions warily.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"What does it do?" chimed Hermione.

"How much are you willing to pay me to drink it?" inquired Ron. Fred's heart swelled with pride at his little brother's capitalist spirit.

"We call it,"—Fred grinned mischievously at his twin before they said, together—"Kiss and Tell!"

"You drink it, and then when someone kisses you—" started George.

"—the potion will tell you if you're compatible!" finished Fred.

"It's the perfect product for our new line of adult Wheezes!" they declared.

"The eighteen-to-thirty-nine demographic is so lucrative." Fred winked conspiratorially.

"All that disposable income, you know," George said in a stage whisper.

The Trio shared an apprehensive look; simultaneously, they leaned back in their seat and folded their arms.

Prepared for some resistance, Fred and George changed their tack.

"Harry." George leaned over the table, looking the Boy Who Lived Twice in the eyes. "Mate—I would seriously appreciate it if you could do me this one, eensy-weensy favor." He raked his fingers through his hair—which briefly revealed the mangled hole where his ear used to be.

Harry flushed from neck to lightning scar.

"And, Hermione." Fred smiled at the witch, whose eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Think of the applications of this potion! I wonder what else we could do with it—how we could tweak it for other purposes." He tapped his chin. "I mean, we would have to make sure it works, first."

Hermione's eyes gleamed with potential.

Without looking at his little brother, George reached into his pocket and pulled out five Galleons. "Oh, and here." He threw the coins across the table.

"Sweet!" said Ron as he collected his loot.

Gred and Forge looked at the Trio in turn—one face ridden with guilt, another with hunger for knowledge, and the third that—well, looked pretty satisfied with itself. The twins gestured to the bubbling potions.

With palpable hesitation, the Trio each claimed a glass.

"Cheers," mumbled Harry, and together, they drained their tumblers.

Then, they slumped over. Harry's forehead smacked on the table. Hermione tipped over her seat, her face cushioned by Harry's shoulder. Ron's head thumped against the high back chair.

"Erm, George?" Fred grimaced. "Did we mean for that to happen?"

"Uhhhhhhhhh—"

"Dearly beloved," Fred announced, "we are gathered here today to celebrate these three brave souls."

Three cots cluttered the living room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were laid to rest, surrounded by white-petaled roses.

"Oy," said Ginny, tapping her foot against the Burrow's scuffed floor. "Get a move on, will you? It isn't a bloody funeral."

The group murmured in agreement. Fred rolled his eyes; no one appreciated nuanced performance anymore.

"Why are we here?" whined Neville Longbottom.

"Well, if you had just let me finish," Fred sneered, "I could have told you by now." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, we are gathered here today to celebrate these three—"

"—by helping them get laid!" George said.

The group mumbled in confusion.

"Well, eventually," Fred amended. "See, they each volunteered to take a potion—"

"—which totally and completely worked exactly how we wanted it to—" George's eyes slid to the left as he spoke.

"—so they could find their perfect match!"

"We've asked you—the remaining single folks we know from Hogwarts,"—Wheezes battled enough civil lawsuits, and they couldn't afford to take on any from disgruntled spouses—"to see who could be their lucky match!"

The small crowd rumbled in exasperation.

"Really, mates? A Sleeping Beauty potion?" Lee Jordan asked dubiously.

"So, what do we do?" Lavender eyed an unconscious Ron with a predatory gleam. "Do we kiss them?" She gasped. "With tongue?"

Fred kept his disgusted shudder in check. "Erm, 'yes' to the kiss. 'No,' to the tongue." He shot a panicked look at Ginny, who shuffled quietly behind the blonde, ready to restrain her if she took liberties with their brother.

"Eurgh, as if anyone would want to kiss them," drawled a voice in the back. "Especially Potter. Who would want to kiss Potter? No one."

George squinted at the half-hidden figure in the corner. "What are you even doing here, Malfoy? We didn't invite you!"

Draco Malfoy brushed invisible lint off his collar. "I don't like being left out," he muttered.

Ginny huffed. "Let's just get this over with. I've got a match this evening. The Harpies can't play without their star Chaser, you know." She marched to the cluster of cots. Ginny bent over—and planted a kiss on Hermione's lips. When she straightened, she glared at the group's aghast faces. "What? She would appreciate us being thorough."

The group murmured hesitantly but soon followed her example. Each one stepped up and offered their services with varying levels of enthusiasm.

"Lee, do you really need to take a shot of Firewhisky before each kiss?" asked George.

"Close your eyes and think of Wizarding England." Fred encouraged Neville.

"Lavender Brown, keep your hands where I can see them!" yelled Ginny.

Eventually, they stumbled on success.

Ron's eyes blinked open; his face melted in a goofy expression as he recognized the blonde by his bedside. "Oh, hey Luna," he crooned. Then, his face crumpled as his lips smacked together. "Why does my mouth taste like a dirty pub floor?"

The kitchen door slammed shut as Lee hurried out of the house, a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky tucked under his jacket.

Harry awoke in a similar fashion—with a blond hovering over him. "Malfoy?" he asked groggily.

Draco sneered down at him. "What, Potter?"

"Did—did you just kiss me?" Harry's face resembled a ripe tomato.

Draco lifted his nose higher. "Consider my debt to society repaid." With a flourish of his black cloak—a Malfoy signature—he stomped to the fireplace and Flooed back to his Manor.

Harry excused himself to freshen up in the loo. He never came out—though Fred did hear the pop of Apparition shortly after the lock clicked behind him.

As for Hermione, they were less than successful.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck. "What are we going to do, George?" he whispered. Frightening visions swirled in his head—an irate Wizengamot sentencing them to a hundred years in Azkaban for depriving the world of Hermione's talent; a livid McGonagall Transfiguring them into tuna as she morphed into a cat; Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter sending them fan mail for 'giving that awful girl what she deserved.'

The twins had a dark future if they couldn't make a love match for Hermione Granger.

The Floo roared to life. Out strolled their two eldest brothers.

"What the hell is going on here?" Bill asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at the sleeping brunette.

"Hey!" George exclaimed. "Bill! Charlie! What are you doing here?"

An impish smile formed on Charlie's face. "Mum and Dad asked us to stop by and check on you. They've only been gone for a day, but Mum was worried you've already burned the house down." He chuckled. "You're really going to make them regret leaving the Burrow in your care, aren't you?"

Fred knocked on the nearest wall. "House is still intact, isn't it?"

"What's all this, then?" Bill gestured to Hermione. The remaining group huddled around her, their faces solemn. Bill paled. "She's not—"

"She's fine!" George threw an arm over Bill's shoulder. "She's just…helping us with a little experiment."

With their trademark enthusiasm, Fred and George filled them in on the goings-on.

Charlie's face pulled into a grimace. "Uh-oh," he murmured, glancing at their eldest brother with trepidation.

Bill—cool Bill with his fang earring and devil-may-care attitude—glowered at the tableau. His fingers twitched around his wand. "You mean to tell me,"—a growl rumbled in his throat—"that the lot of you has been kissing my unconscious girlfriend?"

There was a charged silence—then, an explosive pop!

Fred looked over his shoulder, finding the room empty save for himself, his twin, and the sleeping woman. "Bloody cowards," he muttered.

In the back, Ginny was sneaking out through the kitchen door.

"Ginny!" George hissed. "Help us!"

She glanced at the twins, then at a murderous Bill, whose arms were restrained by Charlie. She shrugged. "I've got brothers to spare." As she grabbed her broom, she called behind her, "Try not to make a mess!" Then, the heartless wench flew to safety.

"Oh, balls." Fred gaped at their elder brothers. "Listen, Bill, we had no idea the two of you were dating!"

With a roar, Bill shoved Charlie off him. He bore down on the twins, who clutched each other's arm.

"This is it, George," Fred cried.

"At least we made it to twenty-eight," George croaked.

Bill barreled into them—then shoved them apart as he rushed to Hermione's side. He leaned down, and his lips lightly brushed hers.

Hermione awoke with a sigh. "Bill," she breathed. Her glazed eyes sharpened as she took in her surroundings. She sat up. "What happened?"

His large thumb skimmed her cheek, and his fingers plunged into the curls at her nape. "These idiots,"—he nudged his chin towards the twins—"said you volunteered for something called 'Kiss and Tell?'"

Her cheeks turned rosy. "Uh, yeah, I did," she murmured.

The cot creaked as Bill sat on the edge, facing her. "Why?"

Her gaze flickered to their small audience, who watched with rapt attention. "I just, you know,"—her voice dropped to a whisper—"wanted to make sure."

Bill fumbled with the thin fabric over the cot. "You're unsure of me?"

"No!" Hermione stilled his hand with both of hers. "No, no! I was—well, you know me!" She sighed. "My feelings for you are so strong,"—she laced her fingers through his—"but I've always been someone who follows my head, not my heart. And my heart is sure of you. But my mind needed proof." Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. "Are you upset?"

Bill gazed at her; he shook his head slowly, chuckling to himself. "I know exactly who I'm dating," he said, "so, no, I'm not upset that you needed proof to ease your mind." Briefly, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I am angry that there was literally a line of men and women who kissed you before I got here!"

A storm cloud passed over her features. "I wasn't told I'd be unconscious during this little experiment." She glared at Fred and George over Bill's shoulder. Her eyes shifted back to her boyfriend, and her expression softened. She tucked his jaw-length hair behind his ear. "I'm sorry."

Bill didn't say anything—just leaned forward and captured her lips in a tender kiss.

After a full minute, they were still at it. Charlie rolled his eyes, laughing quietly to himself as he escaped out the front door.

"Uh, Fred?" George sidled up to him. "Do you think we should get a move on?"

"We should, George." Fred eyed the distracted couple. "We need as much of a head start as possible."

After a few major tweaks to the recipe—to ensure no one who ingested the potion fell into a slumber—WWW released Kiss and Tell to the public.

It became their fastest selling product. They quickly followed up with other adult Wheezes—Grow-A-Date, Fake Emergency Owl Generator, and, of course, the Patented Daydream Charm XXX.

That last product earned enough for them to open two new branches.

The Weasleys gathered at the Burrow, celebrating Fred and George's two years of success following the launch of Kiss and Tell.

The dining table was crowded. Aside from those Weasleys-by-blood, the table was surrounded with Weasleys-by-name. Luna nestled against Ron, who held a cooing, strawberry-blonde baby in his arms.

Although neither were technically Weasleys, Harry and Draco were there, as well—though the latter still pretended to be put out by his surroundings. Little Scorpius, who they adopted only months prior, toddled around the table.

At the other end, Bill tended to Hermione, who rested her swollen ankles and tired feet. Bill handed her a plate, which she balanced on her large belly. The next generation of Weasley twins was due in three weeks.

Fred glanced around the table. "Hey, George?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"Do you remember what we talked about last night? About what direction to take Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes next?"

George nodded.

Fred nudged his head towards the family table.

George flashed him a sly grin. "Why, Fred, I do believe we found our newest demographic—"

"—An untapped market, one might say—"

And together, they declared, "Weasleys' Baby Wheezes!"

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!