Hey guys! This is part one of another short multi-chapter fic. Enjoy this first chapter!

No promises though, on when the next part will be up. Bear with me, alright?

Disclaimer: All recognisable plotlines, characters etc are property of J..

The Weasley Twins were not easily taken by surprise. In actual fact, they were usually the ones who surprised people.

So it was an enlightening experience for them, one Monday evening, when Hermione Granger Apparated into the flat, prostrated herself miserably upon the bed and glumly announced, "I lost my job."

Mystified, the twins shared a bewildered look. This sort of stuff wasn't something they were equipped to deal with. The task of comforting Hermione (on the rare occasions when she needed comforting) usually fell to Harry and Ron.

Tentatively, Fred broke the silence. "Erm… where are Harry and Ron?"

The sentence was followed by a loud "OUCH!" Fred glowered at George, who was glowering right back at Fred's utter lack of tact. Hermione simply burrowed further under Fred's pillow with a sigh.

The second silence lasted a little longer.

"Harry's with Ginny. Ron's… somewhere," Hermione said at last, her words muffled by the pillow.

A third silence ensued.

At length, George worked up the nerve to break it. "Would you like some tea, Hermione?" he asked her. Fred rolled his eyes.

"No, thank you," Hermione mumbled from underneath the pillow.

The fourth silence lasted – by Fred's estimate – ten minutes and thirty-three seconds. He began to fidget around the eighth minute, and by the tenth he could take it no longer. "So what do you want, Hermione?" he burst out.

"I want... a stiff drink, a hug and some ice cream. Not necessarily in that order."

"Shall we deal with the easiest first, then?" George suggested. She stiffened at the feel of his hands on her waist but allowed him to drag her from beneath the mess of blankets. He enfolded her in warm, strong arms and she hugged back tightly, willing her tears of humiliation to stay firmly inside her tear ducts. She hadn't been hugged by a man in the longest time… she'd forgotten how safe it really felt.

"I'll go fix some Firewhiskey," George announced, gently disentangling himself. Her hair smelled really nice, he noted. Watermelons.

Awkwardly, Fred and Hermione eyed each other across the room. She didn't know what to think of Fred – he was more impatient than George, it seemed. Pressure built in her chest and a telltale lump formed in her throat from the effort of holding back tears.

At last, when two whole minutes had past, her eyes welled up; wordlessly, she held her arms out to Fred. Hesitantly, but not reluctantly, he crossed the small space and sat next to her, slinging a casual arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight to his chest. Her arms wrapped automatically around his soft waist and she breathed in deep, burying her face in his shirt.

To Fred, it seemed as though his heart had stopped beating. How odd it was, that Hermione Granger, of all people, should bring out such feelings in him. Her soft curls smelled of watermelon, her waist impossibly small.

As George entered with several shots of Firewhiskey, she pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes with shaking fingers. It only really helped to smear the makeup around, Fred noted. Gently pushing her hands away, he swiped the tears and the makeup off her face. A weak, grateful smile was shot in his direction before she turned to take a shot.

The liquor burned down her throat, making her gasp, but leaving her with a delightful trail of warmth all down her throat and to her belly. She started feeling fuzzy around the edges – she'd never had a very high tolerance for alcohol – and she slumped back into Fred's arms, hands stretched out for the pint of ice cream that George pressed into her hand. She cracked open the lid of the container and peered down into its depths.

"Mmmmh," she groaned, inhaling the cold, chocolatey scent. George chuckled, handing her a tablespoon to eat with.

The Weasley Twins settled down for a long night.

Three hours, two more shots and a pint of ice cream later, Hermione lay sprawled across Fred's chest on the bed. George was seated in a chair a little ways away with his feet up on the bed. One of Fred's arms was folded behind his head; the other traced circles on the sliver of exposed skin on Hermione's stomach.

The girl in question was dozing; the conscious part of her mind was wholly focused on Fred's fingers. His caress was almost an unconscious gesture, subconsciously affectionate. It was comforting.

So comforting, in fact, that she fell into a doze of sorts. Hovering on the edge of sleep, she wasn't entirely sure if the twins' conversation was a wild trick of her imagination or not.

"Her hair smells like watermelon," Fred murmured sleepily. George chuckled.

"I know."

"I feel awful. I mean, we see the girl every weekend. How did we not pick up on her loneliness?"

George shrugged.

"We should at least do something to help," Fred insisted.

"Like what?" George asked with raised eyebrows.

"I dunno… obviously there's not much we can do with Harry and Ron… but didn't you say last week that Verity's pregnant and we need a new shop assistant?"

George's eyes widened. "You may be onto something, brother of mine!" he cried, thumping Fred on the back. "Imagine if we got Hermione into the lab! She'd create products that'd send us worldwide."

"And she'd have a job," Fred reminded him, as if determined to be the good guy.

"Erm. Yeah," George agreed with a roll of his eyes. "Is she asleep?" he asked belatedly.

"Yepp. If she isn't, she's doing a right good job of pretending she is."

"It's almost four in the morning, mate. We should get some rest too. Want to crash in my room?"

"Nah. I might wake her if I moved," Fred replied, hoping his twin wouldn't realise that he really only wanted to stay curled up with Hermione and her lovely fruity scent.

"Suit yourself, mate. I know you've always loved watermelon." With a lascivious wink, George scudded from the room, closing the door with a snap before Fred could fling a pillow at him.

Fred closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep with the smell of watermelon around him.

The next morning, Hermione awoke to the smell of toast, bacon and tea.

"Hermione!" George sang as he entered the room. The smell of breakfast grew stronger.

She groaned, rolling over – but was surprised to find that she couldn't, owing the heavy, toned male arm lying across her torso.

Glancing to her right with wide eyes, she spotted a shirtless Fred in bed beside her. It was his arm that was pinning her to the bed.

Terrified, she tentatively peeked under the covers.

Okay. Clothes still on.

She breathed once again.

"Want me to wake him up?" George asked, fighting a smile.

"Please," Hermione requested in a strained voice.

Swiftly, George dumped a pitcher of water on Fred's head. Hermione gasped. Fred awoke with a splutter and a flailing of limbs.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Fred gargled.

"Good morning," Hermione said quietly, fighting laughter.

"Morning!" Fred exclaimed, bewildered. "But what – oh." George had shot him a meaningful look and the previous night's conversation flooded back.

"So, Hermione," George said conversationally just as she had taken her first sip of juice. "How would you like - "

"To be - "

"An honorary member of WWW staff?"

Hermione spat the juice out, spraying it all over the twins.

"Really?" she asked, her face alive with hope.

The twins grinned.