Note: Just so's you're not confused, there's some things you should know. This is set about two years after the war. However, Fred is still alive, as him being dead would sort of defeat the purpose of the story. Also, because Mrs. Weasley insisted, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are staying at the Burrow. Ginny plays for the Holyhead Harpies, Ron and Harry are aurors, and Hermione works for the DMLE, as JKR stated. I hope you enjoy the story!

"Just...a little...more..." Hermione panted. She could barely breathe and felt a little dizzy, but it was so close. "Come on, Ginny!"

Ginny met Hermione's gaze in the full-length mirror and made a face. "I'm pulling as hard as I can! Geez!"

The redhead gave a final yank at the laces of Hermione's corset and then stopped, a little out of breath herself. "There. Better?"

"Much." Hermione wheezed slightly, struggling to get a full breath in, but gave a little satisfactory nod as she twirled in front of Ginny's mirror in the corset and her knickers. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder.

"Okay, Gin. Now for the dress."

Ginny groaned, flopping back onto her bed. "Do we have to put the dress on now? Your corset took nearly an hour!"

"It's not my fault that you're not strong enough pull it as tight as it needs to be!"

"Hermione, I play chaser for a professional Quidditch team. I think I have strong arm muscles. Your body just doesn't appreciate being squeezed into such a...contraption."

"Well...It's not my fault that the hosts insisted on period dress!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I don't think they intended for their guests to asphyxiate halfway through the ball from their corsets being too tight. It's a charity event. They want money. They couldn't care less how authentic your costume is as long as you're there and donate your fair share of Galleons."

Hermione gave a small harrumph and turned away from her friend. "Just help me with the dress. Please."

Ginny sighed and slowly pulled herself off the bed, reaching for the offending item in question. "Fiiiiiine."

While Ginny was gathering and sorting out the many layers and laces of Hermione's outfit, Hermione admired herself in the mirror once more. The corset gave her the hourglass figure she'd always wanted, a tiny waist and flaring hips replacing the slighter, more subtle curves she normally had. I don't look half bad, Hermione thought. Even her breasts - normally satisfactory B cups - looked better, pushed up to display impressive décolletage.

"Hermioneeee, stop ogling yourself in the mirror and help me figure this bloody thing out," Ginny said, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. Blushing, she turned to help her friend.

"What's this?" Ginny asked.

Hermione snapped instantly into lecture mode. "That's called a chemise; it's like a slip. It's worn under the gown, to help skirts keep their shape. It goes under the-" Hermione stopped.

Ginny looked up from her sorting suspiciously. "Under the what?"

Hermione's face was tinged pink. "Under the corset," she said in a tiny voice.

"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Ginny's got dangerously soft.

Hermione nodded, backing away slightly from her friend's increasingly red face.

"Do you mean to tell me, that after an hour of fussing and tugging and straining, we have to undo it and do the whole damn thing over AGAIN?"

"Yes..."

Ginny glared at Hermione. Hermione decided it was quite terrifying, almost as bad as that recurring dream she used to have about Snape and the exploding potion.

"I'm...sorry...Ginny?"

"You'd better be," Ginny growled. She stomped over to Hermione, spun her around, and started to untie the corset laces, mumbling incoherently about strained muscles.

A knock sounded on Ginny's bedroom door. "Come in!" she shouted, a tad harshly. Hermione winced at the loud sound so close to her ear.

"What is going on up here?" a familiar voice said as the door creaked open. "It sounds like a heard of elephants and a flock of very shrill birds are-"

Ginny looked up, tugging at the corset strings so hard that Hermione was jerked around. "Stop moving, I have to loosen them! A heard of elephants and a flock of birds are what, Fred?"

Fred stood in the doorway, face turning bright red as he stared at Hermione. "Er...never mind," he muttered quickly, stepping away and shutting the door.

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Fred sat on the steps at the bottom of the staircase, feeling like he was about to die of embarrassment. Why didn't Ginny warn him that Hermione was in her underwear? And such enticing underwear at that... Fred groaned and buried his face in his hands. Why? Why him? Why not George or Bill or Charlie or Percy or even Ron? Why did he have to be the one to walk in on Hermione Granger, the brains of the golden trio, in her knickers?

It wasn't as if he'd never seen a bird in her underwear before; hell, he'd done his fair share of planning and plotting to see just that. But Hermione...Hermione was different. He'd known her forever - she was very nearly a member of the Weasley family, for Merlin's sake! Fred groaned as he remembered the look of mirth on his sister's face as he'd shut the door. There was no way Fred would be able to escape her teasing.

"Should've knocked..." he mumbled into his hands.

"What's that?" a voice next to him asked.

Fred looked up to see his twin sitting beside him. "Nothing," he said hurriedly, "Nothing at all."

George raised an eyebrow. "Well then," he said, "I don't supposed you'd know why Miss Granger and our sister are laughing so hard I can hear them from our room?"

Fred grimaced. "Erm...Well...I maybe sorta kinda saw Hermione in her underwear on accident."

George looked skeptical. "And...?"

Fred felt his face turning red again. "Ok...I saw Hermione in a corset. And blushed. And made a hasty retreat out of the room."

George tried and failed to hide a snigger behind his hand. Fred shoved him. "Aw, shut up. You would've done it too."

"I would not!" George looked indignant. "Unlike you, I can handle myself around women."

"Yeah, like you can handle yourself around Katie Bell."

George turned pink. "Anyway," he said hastily, "What is our dear darling bookworm hiding under her ever-so-modest clothing?"

"I don't know, George, don't you find it a little strange to be talking about Hermione like this? I mean, she's been practically family for ages..."

George gave Fred a look. "Come on. Spill."

Fred sighed, thinking back to the fleeting seconds in Ginny's room. "Well...she's slender-ish, with quite obnoxious curves - although I guess that'll be the corset - and nice legs and...and...breasts," he finished lamely.

"That was the most eloquent description I have ever heard, brother mine," said George sarcastically. He braced his hand on his twin's shoulder and stood. "Now, unless you have any more fantastical details that you happened to have committed to memory, I'm going to Apparate back to our flat - or what's left of it - and see what else I can salvage. We should really look into extra reinforcements on the walls of our lab..." With a crack, George disappeared.

With a sigh, Fred stood to follow, his mind drifting to dark honey-colored hair spilling over curves tightly outlined in white before he forced himself to focus on the now soot-blackened interior of his and George's living room.

After nearly three hours of preparation - during which Hermione and Ginny belatedly realized that the whole process could be done magically - Hermione found herself standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, wearing a Victorian dress much the same color of the dress robes she'd worn to the Yule Ball all those years ago. Ginny had styled Hermione's hair perfectly, curling it and pulling it up into an elegant knot on top of Hermione's head.

Mrs. Weasley couldn't get enough.

"Hermione, dear, you look wonderful! There won't be a boy at that ball who won't fall in love with you!"

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly?" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Now, do you have everything? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Yes, Molly."

"Good. Have a good time, and try not to be home too late." Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione a hug.

"Mum!" Ginny said. "Be careful, you're going to crush her dress!"

"It's alright, Gin," Hermione said, trying not to smile.

Ginny pouted. "But, 'Mione, all my hard work..."

They were interrupted by a resounding crash that seemed to shake the house; a cloud of green smoke came wafting down the staircase soon after. The three witches stood in stunned silence as someone thundered down the stairs, coughing wildly. It was only when two identical heads of red hair hazily came into view that Mrs. Weasley seemed to wake up.

"FREDERICK GIDEON AND GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!"

The twins froze for a moment, as if dreading the reception at the bottom, before carefully coming down the last few steps.

"Yes, Mum?" Fred asked, with an innocent expression on his face. His mother simply glared. George took his twin's elbow and slowly started scooting them to the side.

"Hermione!" he said with a smile, "You look absolutely ravishing! Delightedly delectable! Simply stunning! What're you all dressed up for?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but Mrs. Weasley beat her to it. "Hermione is going to a charity ball promoting the rights of werewolves and house elves and other beings classified as part or non-human," she said proudly, before narrowing her eyes. "Now. Would you like to tell me exactly what you are doing?"

The twins stopped and looked at each other.

"Well..." Fred started, "We were...just moving some stuff in. From our flat."

"And what sort of stuff would that be?"

"Um...experimental stuff?" said George, looking hopeful.

"I see. And what's the rule about Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products?"

Fred and George hung their heads, and Hermione stifled a giggle at seeing them reduced to their sixteen-year-old selves. "No experimenting in the house," they chorused.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Now clean up this smoke and go fix whatever it is that you did."

"Yes, Mum."

The twins turned and thundered back up the stairs, but not before winking cheekily at Hermione.

"Have fun, Hermione!" one yelled.

"But not too much fun!" the other added. "That's what we're for!" A door upstairs slammed, and soon the green smoke that was spilling down the staircase had disappeared.

Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley stood in silence for a few seconds. Well, Hermione thought, things are certainly going to be lively with the twins living here again. It's a good thing that that smoke didn't ruin my dress...

"Oh!" she said suddenly, "I'm going to be late!" And with two hurried hugs goodbye from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione Disapparated with a small pop.

It was nearly two in the morning, and Fred was still awake. Since he and George would be staying at the Burrow indefinitely, they'd decided to expand their room, adding a small work space. While the Undetectable Expansion Charms had been easy, warding the new workroom against explosions and other magical mishaps was not. Fred was in the middle of casting a tricky little spell to fireproof the room when he heard a creak on the stairs, followed by a soft "Damn!" Someone was trying their best to sneak quietly up to bed, and doing a right good job of it, too. Fred wondered who it was.

George had left to go on a date with Katie Bell hours ago, and had owled around midnight to say he was sleeping over, so it couldn't be him. Ron had gone to sleep shortly after getting back from the auror office with Harry at one, and Harry had already snuck down the stairs from Percy's old room to snuggle up in bed with Ginny. Fred shuddered lightly at the thought of his baby sister and Harry Potter doing...stuff...and hoped for Harry's sake that he wasn't around when Ron finally figured it out. George, Ron, Harry, Ginny...Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had already gone to bed and none of the eldest Weasley brothers were visiting. Which left...Hermione.

Fred grinned as he heard the muffled thud of a stubbed toe, and Hermione's resulting swears. He'd learned long ago that she wasn't as opposed to rule-breaking and swearing as she made out to be. As the soft - now slightly limping - footsteps passed the landing by the twins' room, Fred stuck his head out the door.

"Have a good time, Granger?" he called.

Hermione jumped - an impressive feat, considering the dress she was wearing - and spun around.

"Fred!" she hissed, "Be quiet! You're going to wake everybody up!"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Ginny and Harry are wrapped up in their own little world, Ron is snoring away upstairs, and there's been a Silencing Charm on Mum and Dad's door for years. No one is going to wake up from a little bit of conversation."

Hermione stuck out her tongue. "In that case," she said in a normal voice, "I had a wonderful time. However, I really, really, need to get out of this dress. Goodnight, Fred." And, for some reason taking a deep breath, she continued her way up the stairs.

Fred stared at Hermione's back for a few seconds before retreating back inside his room. Her dress, he decided, was very pretty, although he didn't see how she could stand to move around in it. So poofy. Fred had just started figuring out what combination of spells was needed to prevent something like that evening's cloud of smoke from escaping into the hall again when there was a soft knock on his door.

He opened it to find Hermione, slightly out of breath and blushing a little.

"How may I be of service?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione blushed deeper. "I can't get out of my dress."

"So go ask Ginny."

"Harry's in there, and they've put one of your Privacy Protection Locks on the door. I don't fancy getting stunned and having my skin turned blue trying to open it."

Fred smirked. "I take it you've made the mistake of trying to open Ginny's door at night before?"

Hermione glared at him. "Just help me out of this dress." Fred opened the door to let her into the room. Hermione stepped in and stopped as she saw the previously non-existent door to the workroom.

"Making some modifications, are we?"

Fred just shrugged. "So how do you undo this?"

Hermione turned so her back was facing him. "The spell to unlace it is laxo."

Fred unlaced the dress, and Hermione shrugged it off, sighing as the heavy weight disappeared. Then she started pulling off her underskirts.

"Um, Hermione?" Fred asked, scratching behind his ear. "What are you doing?"

Hermione shot him an incredulous look over her shoulder. "I'm not about to wear this corset to bed, Fred." She pulled off the last of her skirts, standing before him in some sort of loose nightgown thing that was covered by the corset. Fred was reminded of the scene he'd walked in on in Ginny's room earlier and forced the image of an underwear-clad Hermione out of his head.

"Oh," he said. He stared at her impossibly tiny waist, thinking that he could almost fit both hands around it. It was a wonder Hermione was even breathing properly.

"Come on, Fred!"

"Laxo," Fred said, and Hermione's corset unlaced with a slithering sound. She took in a deep breath and stretched, slouching a little now that she wasn't being forced to stand up straight. The thought crossed Fred's mind that he liked Hermione without the corset better; it looked more natural. Hermione pulled the corset off and for a disoriented moment Fred thought she was reaching down to take the nightgown-looking thing off as well, but she was simply bending down to gather her various items of clothing.

Skirts and corset and dress in hand, Hermione turned to go. "Goodnight, Fred!" she called over her shoulder. Fred waved goodbye and shut the door before returning to warding his workroom.