Dungbombs and S-P-E-W II

Sun shone through the window, causing dancing patterns of light on the cold stone floor and across Hermione's bedspread. Or at least, she thought it was the sun until she managed to release the grip sleepiness had on her and pop open one eye to take in the surroundings of the dormitories.

In fact, the source of light was none other than the chandelier in the middle of the room turned on. The sun (if sunrise had even happened this early in the morning) was hidden between tightly shut windows, the draperies drawn across them.

Hermione's semi awake state did not last long. Forgetting all about just why she was determined to wake so very early in the morning, she rolled over and simply went back into a sort of half sleep, not awake but not asleep yet, either-- sort of just staring into her pillow with her eyes closed, feeling at peace.

Peace that was destroyed a few minutes later when an alarm clock rang right in her ear, as did two chattering voices coming from somewhere around...

Lavender and Parvati's beds. Argh. Smashing her hand down on the button on the alarm clock, she made a firm resolution to never use one again. Even Lavender's and Parvati's wacking her with pillows was a nicer way to wake up. At least they were feather pillows.

Grumbling ill naturedly about the bright light that assualted her eyes and about stupid alarm clocks being way too loud, Hermione sat up in bed, still loathe to actually get all the way up. It was too early to be doing anything, and -Hermione's eyes took a look at the alarm clock- a whole two more hours until breakfast.

It was then Hermione remembered just why she was indulging in the unusual practice of getting up early. The S-P-E-W meeting.

Couldn't have it at a reasonable hour later in the day, now could you? Ooh no. Get it over with first thing in the morning you said. Never mind that George is more likely to snooze than hear a word you say, mocked the voice in her head.

That is precisely why they invented coffee, she told herself sternly and made herself throw back the covers and jump out of bed. Hermione dressed as hastily as she could, shivering from the sudden cold that greeted her. The world outside was already frozen over, and the inside of Hogwarts didn't seem to be much better.

On the way to the door, Hermione stopped by Lavender's and Parvati's beds, curious to know why on earth they of all people were bothering to get up so terribly early. Both of them had just finished talking excitedly about something or other.

"How come you guys are already up? Whatever happened to the concept of beauty rest?" questioned Hermione, trying to hold back a yawn and not succeeding.

"Out with last month's addition of Witch's Weekly," stated Parvati, not sounding nearly as tired as Hermione herself felt. How did the manage to get up early and still have energy? Eating sugar by the barrel or something?

Lavender smirked. "We're planning our outfits for the day. Otherwise, we never have enough time to see that they color coordinate perfectly."

Hermione gave a very unladylike snort. "You are not. Be serious, what are you guys really up to?"

"Good to know you don't conform to the popular belief that we're complete ditzes," said Parvati with a grin.

"You aren't ditzes. Just nosy," said Hermione.

"Not nosy. Helpful," stated Parvati and Lavender.

"Same thing."

"I'm beginning to think you're the only person that doesn't believe our heads consist of just air," said Lavender with a sigh.

"Only person? You mean two. Or does Ron not count?" said Parvati shrewdly.

" 'Course he does. Speaking of which, I'd better hurry up so I can go meet him in the library for..umm..studying."

Hermione's mouth quirked. "A word of advice. You might want to bring a book so it actually looks like you're doing just that."

"Better yet, bring two books. One for studying and one to hide behind when you're snogging," Parvati giggled.

Lavender glared at the two of them. "Who's being nosy now?"

"Not nosy. Helpful," said Hermione with an angelic smile.

"Same thing," said Lavender.

"Alright," said Parvati, grabbing Lavender's arm. "Let's go before you two turn into broken records."

"You've been reading about that guy that's the Wierd Sister's new guitar player, Will, in Witch's Weekly again, haven't you?" guessed Lavender.

Parvati shook her head firmly, never the less turning slightly red as she pulled Lavender out the door. "Don't even think about it. It's impossible to match up a matchmaker and besides, he goes to Beauxbatons."

And with that, she, Lavender, and Hermione all left the room, Hermione heading for the boy's dormitories and Lavender and Parvati heading for the library.

********

When Hermione reached the boy's dormitories, it took her a minute of rubbing at her eyes sleepily before she noticed Fred was in the room (as, of course, he would be) quickly trying to arrange a bunch of cushions in front of somebody or other.

"Hey," said Hermione to Fred. "Who else is here?" She looked pointedly in the direction of the cushions.

"Oh, no one," said Fred, moving to stand in front of the couch.

"That explains why you were scrambling with those cushions then," said Hermione slyly.

"I was rearranging them," protested Fred. "Interior decorating is a hobby of mine." Here, a mysterious loud cough that could have been a stifled giggle came from behind the set of cushions.

Hermione's giggle didn't have to be stifled, she just laughed at Fred outright. "Right up there with quilting. Very believable, Fred."

Fred looked surprised that she had used his name. "You can tell the difference between us?"

Hermione knew he was referring to himself and George. " 'Course. Plus, you're wearing pjs with your name on them," she pointed out.

"Could have swiped with Fred."

"Come off it. I know you're Fred," said Hermione.

"How?"

"Because if you weren't, I don't believe Angelina would be hiding behind the cushions of the couch," assumed Hermione.

"What Angelina? I don't see any Angelina. Must just be one of the rampant dust bunnies," said Fred.

"Dust bunnies are on the floor, not on couches, Fred," said Hermione.

"Umm..ermm." Fred struggled to come up with an explanation for the eerily shifting cushions. " A house elf got stuck in one of the cushions?"

"Hah! No wonder as soon as I walked in, you looked like you were a few slabs of butter short of a heart attack," said Hermione.

"Nah. That's how he always looks when I kiss him," stated a voice from behind the cushions.

"Too much info there," said Hermione with a grin, sure now that none other than Angelina was behind the cushions-that was unless Fred truly was having an affair with a house elf.

Sure enough, Angelina struggled up from where she was mashed into the couch, grabbed one of the cushions that had been hiding her, and threw it at Fred.

"House elf this."

"I can see where you might have gotten the house elf idea from. I mean, her pajamas are green," said Hermione.

Fred, even though Angelina had already jumped out from behind the couch, still was trying to convince Hermione that there wasn't a girl in the boy's dormitories.

"Yeah, that's it! She's really an overgrown frog," said Fred.

At this, Angelina picked up another cushion and prepared to throw it. "Watch it, mister," she warned him. "I'm not the one in pjs that makes them look like a giant walking candy cane."

"Tsk tsk," said Hermione, trying to look severe. "Two sixth years together in the boy's dormitory in their pjs. Just think of what-"

"McGonagall would say if she caught us. We know, we know," said Angelina.

"Actually, I was going to say Peeves," said Hermione.

"But we're completely innocent," said Fred. "We were just playing leap frog."

"In your pjs at five in the morning?" asked Hermione doubtfully.

"What? The astronomy tower was crowded," defended Fred.

Angelina gave him a hard poke in the ribs. "Ouch! What I meant is, she had a nightmare and-"

"Beg your pardon, I had a nightmare?" Angelina turned to Hermione.

"See, this is why we invented W.Q.A.F.F.P. Boys are always trying to give girls the weaker roles and that stands true in quidditch, as well. The lack of girls as both keepers and beaters over the years just prooves this. Girls always are put in the less dangerous job of chasers or seekers. If they were given the same oppurtunities for different positions instead of being resigned to seekers or chasers, quidditch as we know it would be different today."

Fred shook his head at Angelina as she finished up her speech (which was all the more impressive for her having gave it so very early in the morning.) "Angelina, can you stop trying recruit members for W.Q.A.F.F.P for a second? I'm trying to come up with a convincing lie."

"Might as well give up trying to lie. I already know Angelina's here," said Hermione.

"Lying? Whoever said that?" demanded Fred, obviously as tired as Hermione was.

"You did," said Angelina.

"Lack of sleep makes me groggy," mumbled Fred.

"So does kissing," said Angelina, giving a mischevious grin (as well as way too much information yet again.)

Angelina spoke to Hermione again. "You really should join the quidditch team," she told her. "I bet you'd make a great keeper."

"And a great member of W.Q.A.F.F.P, right?" said Hermione.

"Naturally."

"I'll think about it," Hermione decided.

"Good," said Angelina. "We need another girl to kick these guy's ass-"

"That should seriously become your motto," cut in Fred.

"I beg to differ," said a voice from behind Hermione. "You only hit us in the kneecaps."

"Not that your ways of doing so aren't various," it added quickly.

Hermione turned around to see Lee and Alicia also entering the dormitories. Did they always have little impromptu get togethers at five in the morning? she wondered.

"Forgetting my broomstick over your head so soon?" questioned Alicia of Lee.

Lee winced, the event obviously still very clear in his memory. "No. The lump on my head won't let me."

"And what are you two doing here?" Hermione asked Lee and Alicia.

"Who, us? We came to help them with the-" started Lee.

"Rampaging dust bunnies?" guessed Hermione.

"Right. With our trusty invisible brooms," said Alicia, nodding and trying to keep her face from breaking into a smile.

"And our microscopic dust bins," added Lee.

"They are such a danger to society," Fred agreed. " Your precious George could have choked to death on them."

"Very dangerous," said Angelina. "What with their huge teeth and all. Bigger than toothpicks."

"I think you meant sharper," Fred helped her out.

"Dust doesn't have teeth," Hermione said.

"It does when it's hungry," stated Alicia.

"I really should tell someone you four are out of bed, snogging at all hours," admonished Hermione.

"You forget you're out of bed yourself," said Lee.

"What can I say, the dust bunnies called." Hermione glanced at all four of the sixth years. "Don't worry. Your secret job as dust bunny exterminators is safe with me, as long as you guys continue your dust bunny patrolling in closets somewhere else. I have to wake up George for a meeting of S-P-E-W."

Fred snickered . "Wake him up? He's snoring so loud, he sounds like dad's magical lawn mower when it broke."

"Good luck," said Angelina. ""If me and Fred's erm"- she grinned-"dust bunny patrolling didn't wake up George, nothing will."

"May I reccomend my new brand of canary creams?" said Lee (Hermione remembered all too well the effect of those from yesterday in detention.) "Nothing says good morning like being set on fire."

Alicia pushed him towards the doorway. "Or you could always do the nice nonviolent alternative of making George breakfast in bed."

"Nonviolent?" chorkled Lee. "May I remind you canary creams can be made to look uncannily like eggs done sunny side up?"

"Oh yeah," Alicia said in afterthought as she and Lee dissapeared around the door. Alicia quickly peeked back around the doorframe to say one last thing to Hermione. "Guess that's what comes of dating one of the 'terrible three'."

"Heey!" came Lee's voice from further down the hall. "That saying can go both ways."

Angelina had tied a robe around her pajamas, put fuzzy slippers on her feet, and was heading out the door as well, Fred already out the door with Lee and Alicia. (Neither she and Alicia, nor the "terrible three" as Fred, George, and Lee were called, cared a smidgen about being seen in their pjs.)

"If worst comes to worst, you can always try kicking him out of bed," she suggested before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

"Now I see what you mean about the other terrible three," Fred could be heard saying to Lee, his voice echoeing.

**********

Hermione walked across the dormitories silently, not wanting to wake any of the other sixth years ( they must have all been wearing sets of earmuffs not to have heard the conversation that had been going on just awhile ago) and have to explain just what exactly she was doing.

Upon reaching George's bed, she hesitated a moment, not wanting to wake him right away. Red hair falling across his tanned, freckled face, he didn't exactly look innocent--more like a little toddler who had just snuck out of bed only a few minutes ago to steal a jar of cookies and was now trying to pretend to look innocent...and asleep.

Finally, going against her better judgement (he was quite adorable when he was sleeping), Hermione placed her hands on either of his shoulders and gave him a good, hearty shake.

"Ahh," he muttered, turning sideways. "No mum, I didn't hit Percy over the head with the baseball bat. Honest."

Hermione shook her head. "Not convincing. I know you're awake!"

"Um. Glumble. Zzzz" said George, shutting his eyes and trying to go back to sleep.

"Nope, sorry. I still know you're awake. I know what you look like when you're napping. I see you sleep through those quidditch speeches Davies gives when you have morning practice, remember?"

"Me? Sleep through those excellent speeches? Never. I don't sleep, I meditate," George said, both of his eyes still tightly screwed shut.

"Oh, of course. I thought you were great at sneaking away from McGonagall the other day afer we set off those dungbombs-all that focus from meditating must be paying off," said Hermione.

"Naturally." George puts his covers back up over his nose. "Why did you think I was chanting 'oom' as we ran?"

"Was it 'oom'? Sounded more like 'doom' to me," said Hermione. "You can save your breath, anyway. I didn't write those awful quidditch speeches."

"I know. If you had, I'd be listening with rapt attention," he teased.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, mister. The house elves await.." hinted Hermione, pulling back George's blankets from covering his face.

"Oh right. Very nice of them to bring me breakfast in bed. One coffee, two eggs, and a side of bacon," George ordered. "Goodnight." He turned over on his stomach and stuck his pillow over his head.

"Technically, it's good morning," said Hermione to the pillow (well, it was nearest his face.)

"Nuhuh. It's still dark out, isn't it? That means it's night. So nighty night." George's hands went up to clutch his pillow securely over his head, so he could make sure Hermione wouldn't try and snatch it.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, what do I have to do to make you get up? Wave coffee beans under your nostrils?" asked Hermione as she tried to grab the pillow from George's clutches.

"Mmm..coffee...good," murmured George.

"That's nice. I'll just call for the house elves, then, and tell them to pour a pot of it over your head," said Hermione.

George took the pillow away from his face and turned to stare at Hermione (he still wouldn't sit up, however.) "What?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I said I'd just call for the house elves, then, and tell them put some with your plate of bread," she add libbed.

"But I don't wanna be a sandwich," George said plaintively as he showed all signs of going right back to sleep.

"George," said Hermione. "If that's your way of trying to flirt with me at five in the morning, it's not working."

George looked at her with one eye open. "How can I flirt when I can't even move?"

"Flirting involves moving? I learn something new everyday."

George pouted. "I'm serious. I'm not moving an inch. It's so warm under the covers and it's cold out there. I would die of hypothermia. You don't want that, do you? Then I wouldn't be there to thank for your anniversary gift."

Hermione grinned. "I think I already thanked you for detention. The bubblegum heart was right up there with talking quills and canary creams as my favorite invention."

"Oh no. I got you a new one," explained George.

"Well, in that case, I suppose I'll be lenient on you today. Forget about the S-P-E-W meeting. I'll let you catch a few winks," Hermione fibbed. She began to walk towards the door, then suddenly turned around and ran full speed, intending to jump on George's bed as hard as she could and hopefully, wake him up once and for all.

However, her plan went amiss when a strong hand caught her around the waist midway there and pulled her into the bed.

"Oh no you don't," said George. "I may be sleepy, but I'm not that sleepy. I knew you were planning that."

Hermione struggled under his grip and under the comfortable quilt, both of which were combining to make her very sleepy. "Really George, we have to get up," she protested.

"Just three minutes." He pulled her closer.

"Alright, three," agreed Hermione.

"Four."

"Three."

"Six."

"I swear, if you don't get out of bed right now, I am going to throw you out," threatened Hermione.

"Can't," George said smugly. "I've got my arm wrapped around you."

Hermione buried her head comfortably into his shoulder in spite of herself. "I could kick you," she warned in a whisper.

"I could kick back."

"You, you...meanie."

"Ouch. I think I've been mortally wounded."

"You will be if you don't get up RIGHT now" said Hermione.

George sat up in bed, pulling Hermione up with him. "I'm up, I'm up! Are you sure you don't have a snooze button anywhere?"

Hermione shoved him out of bed. "Ouch! Okay, okay. Look, I'm out of bed and on the way to the bathroom to get dressed!"

George turned around, robes in hand, to see Hermione now slumbering peacefully on his bed. "Erm, Hermione? Hermioone?" he asked, laughing. " 'Mione? Wake up, come on!"

*************

"Order, order! The thirty- third meeting of S-P-E-W is now in session!" exclaimed Hermione, causing the scattered other few students that were in the library-most of them studying for the N.E.W.T's or finishing up homework at the last minute- to give her bemused glances over the tops of their books (or, in Lavender's and Ron's case, to scoot behind a shelf of books that was more hidden.)

"Yes, judge 'Mione." George sank down into an oversized, shabby armchair. "All you're missing is a pulpit."

"And a mallet. Too bad I don't have one, it would help to get my notetaker's attention," said Hermione.

"No need. It's already been got," said George.

"By what?"

"Your hair. You didn't straighten it out today. It looks nice."

"Well, thanks." Hermione smiled. "You're just saying that because it's as tousled as yours."

"What? My hair isn't absolutely fabooolous?" George said dramatically, trying his utmost to look like a famous blonde haired professor-or infamous, as the case was.

"Alright, Professor Lockhart," said Hermione with a laugh. "Back to the focus of our meeting."

"Right. But Hermione, seriously, your hair looks much nicer without all that wierd spray stuff-"

"It's called hair gel," said Hermione.

"Yeah that. It looks much nicer without it. Very pretty."

"I think I get the point." Hermione blushed. She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Right. For our first order of business, lack of house elve's apparel. They may have socks, but half of them refuse to wear them and their otherwise lack of apparel is astonishing. Really, going around umm..err.."

"Stark naked?" suggested George.

"I was leaning more towards in the natural."

"Don't think stark naked house elves are natural."

"Oh alright. Stark naked, then. Going around like that, think of all the diseases they could catch! Why, it's as bad as if they still were slaves. Now, Lavender and Parvati said they would donate some of their old clothes, but the house elves are much too small to fit in them. Unfortunately, the only people I can think of that are the house elve's size are midgets," said Hermione.

"Or munchkins," said George.

"No, not munchkins," Hermione disagreed with a smirk.

" Seeing house elves going around at six in the morning wearing shirts with orange puff balls and shoes with bells on them would probably have half of the student population screaming."

She turned to George. "You should be taking notes."

"Oh. Right. Okay." Taking a sip of the coffee the house elves had provided, George rummaged around his bag to find a spiral and a pencil (they were for his Transfigurations class, but oh well) and began scribbling. Hermione went back to brainstorming various ways of getting the house elves into clothes.

After awhile, though, she simply began to drone, saying a bunch of incomprehensible stuff. Listening to her, George started to get bored and ceased writing, opting instead for drawing a bunch of scribbles of new inventions for Wheezley's Wizard Wheezes.

Snapping out of it, Hermione leaned over to see just what sort of notes George was taking, startling him.

"Ack!!" He grinned sheepishly as Hermione flipped through the notebook (there were some actual notes on S-P-E-W--but there were also pages upon pages of doodles.)

"If you turn it upside down, it does kinda resemble Dobby sky diving," he told her defensively.

"I'll forgive you. This time. You did get two pages of actual notes and that's plenty. 'Sides, I'm about to fall asleep standing up, anyway. Don't even remember half of what I said-"

"Good, because I don't either. It was in gibberish," said George.

Hermione continued to examine the notebook. "I don't see any pictures of house elf clothes. I thought you were going to draw some."

George pointed to a picture of christmas stockings hanging over a fire (christmas stockings, that no doubt, exploded candy or something.) "Viola! Designer socks."

"They need more than socks to wear!" said Hermione.

"I protest," said George. "Socks can double as mittens, you know. Or tube tops-not that I'm keen on that last one, but-"

"Fine. If you think all the want is socks, then you're now officially in charge of the house elve's sock drive. Ask people around Hogwarts for their old socks," said Hermione. She gave a grin. "Seeing how popular S-P-E-W is, you're probably going to have to end up knitting them yourself."

"No way! I think I'll just give them my old socks," said George.

"Not a chance. I don't want you going around barefoot in the morning, do I? You could catch a cold," reminded Hermione.

George gave an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. "You know, I hear colds turn people on."

"Oh, of course. A runny nose just screams romance." Hermione shook her head. "Nope, George. Don't want you getting sick."

"I suppose you'll get an awful headache from all that worrying as I'm most likely to stab myself with the knitting needle," said George sarcastically. "Uh, you do use knitting needles to knit, don't you?"

Hermione laughed. "Well, unless you're Neville and use one as a baton to conduct your toad in singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, yes."

"I can't believe I'm going to knit," moaned George as the breakfast bell rang and he and Hermione began picking up their cups of coffee, books, and spirals. "I'm turning into my grandma."

He stooped to pick up a book of the floor and pretended to be unable to lean over. "Ooh, my aching bones," he exaggerated, pretending to clutch at hip in pain. "Guess you'd better get that. I can't reach it."

"Yes, grandma George," joked Hermione. "And will you be needing a wheelchair this fine morning?"

George grinned. "Nah. Though a piggyback ride would be nice."

"We'd best get to breakfast. I'm starving," said Hermione.

"Me too. Meeting ajourned to go raid the kitchens."

"But what about going to breakfast in the Great Hall?" asked Hermione curiously as they walked out of the library (Lavender and Ron, coincedentally, chose that exact moment to come out from behind their book shelf, as well.)

"Not going to breakfast."

"I know what you're thinking, George, and yes, the closet on the third floor is in use. Found out that on my way up to your dormitories this morning."

"No, not that. I thought you might like your anniversary present now. It's in your room--and well, you'll see..." George trailed off and gave Hermione a wink.

"Forget raiding the kitchens, I'm off to the girl's dormitories, then. I have a present to get for you, too.." Hermione gave George a wink identical to his own and headed off for the first of many a set of staircases that she would have to climb, pondering over what he possible could have gotten her.

With George, it could have been almost anything.