Dungbombs and S-P-E-W II

George's first thought as he woke up the following morning was much less along the lines of pensive and meaningful than it was a half awake sort of foggy realization of what had happened the night before.

Ugh.

Actually, that one syllable didn't quite do George's situation justice. A long string of curse words was probably on the whole more adequate in describing the way he felt.

George rolled over sideways, efficiently managing to entangle himself more within his covers. Through the transparency of the sheet (George had long made it a habit to sleep with his head underneath the covers) he found himself looking at the boy asleep in the bed across from him. It was as if there was a mirror in front of him somehow, a shard of glass portraying him with immaculate accuracy in his twin.

Yes, it was him, but yet at the same time, was another being entirely. For one thing, Fred didn't have half so many freckles. And his hair was parted differently. He also most certainly did not hide himself under the blankets as if to wrap himself in a coccon, the way George did.

George also knew for a fact that Fred's eyes were hazel, not a bright shade of green as his were. Of course, no one else noticed, besides possibly Angelina and a select other few that had known the twins since their earliest days.

At one time, George would have included Hermione among the select few.

Now, he wasn't sure. Either she saw the difference between them all too well, and had chosen the more appealing personality wise or she saw no difference between them at all, saw them as one person with the same thoughts and opinions divided into two bodies, and that was why..

George couldn't manage to put his thoughts around that-the thing that had happened last night. Unfortunately, even as he tried to block out the memory, it came rushing back. The more persistant you are to try and get rid of something, the more vividly it comes to mind. Damn, thought George as he stepped out of bed and changed into his daily robes with a quickness that was out of sync with his usual slow morning routine. It usually took him a good two hours to wake up..which explained the numerous days he had had one leg through the portrait in the boy's dormitory before someone (Fred or Lee) reminded him he was still in his pajamas.

Today, however, he was wide awake. Wide awake and wanting to get out of the dormitory as fast as possible, preferably before either Fred OR Lee woke.

George knew very well why he didn't want to deal with Fred at the moment, but Lee he wasn't so sure of. To be honest, he didn't really want to have to face anyone at that point. The thought of jumping back into bed fully dressed and curling back underneath his blankets was becoming more and more appealing.

But the longer he stayed in the dormitories, the more the chance he had of Lee, or worse, Fred, waking up. George jumped through the portrait so fast, he nearly tripped head over heels. All he thought as he ran down the spiralling staircase, barely paying attention to Peeves sliding down the banisters, was that he was in the worst possible situation. It didn't occur to him to think of how it was for Lee or Hermione. But then, Hermione was someone he was trying not to think of right then.

If he did, he was afraid he'd have to hit something, or throw something.

George briefly wondered if this was how it felt to be Ron when he got in one of his 'moods'. So upset over everything that you could no longer think clearly, your reason distorted by anger and rage. George was not one to anger easily, in fact, he considered himself pretty easy going. Never had anything to be angry about, really. Sullen occasionally or a bit upset when his mother began giving another one of her talks about how he and Fred weren't living up to their potential, but never really angry.

He was angry now. More than that, however, he was scared, sad, and worried. Three other emotions not commonplace in his repetoire of feelings, but then, yesterday had been anything but commonplace, what with that Will Pierre guy prancing around like the git he was and Hermione prancing around like the git she WASN'T.was only after he had descended the stairs that George realized his feet were clad in only a pair of worn out argoyle socks. He took them off and stuffed them in his pocket, his bare feet freezing against the stone floor. No point in going all the way back up the stairs for shoes when he could already hear Lee and Fred, never ones to be quiet, even in the wee hours of the morning, talking loudly as the climbed out of the portrait. For an insant, George thought they both saw him. Lee's face formed an upset expression and Fred mouth opened to yell something down at George, but then he changed his mind and shut it abruptly, turning his head slightly and allowing George enough time to push open the medieval styled (not surprising, considering all of Hogwarts' ancient architecure) wooden doors and enter the Great Hall.

Immediately, he took a seat next to a very surprised Neville, Angelina casting him a curious glance as he did so, wondering what had caused George to suddenly abandon the rest of the "gang."

"What, only one troublemaker today?" she teased. "Where's Fred and Lee?"

George shrugged imperceptibly. Angelina was taken aback. George did not shrug or look surly like that. Ever. It just wasn't his nature. Nah, nothing to worry over. George was probably just tired or something.

"Ooh, are they in trouble for something again?" Alicia frowned, taking an attititude that was quite Hermione-like. "Because I told Lee if he so much as one more detention, he'll get kicked out of Q.W.A.F.F.P."

"And that, I'm sure, would be a horrible loss," said George, straight faced.

Alicia grinned. "Not, not really. But who else can I use for target practice?"

"Do you really spend all of your meetings wacking each other with brooms? Sounds kinky." George went back to picking at his toast, cutting it into millions of tiny pieces.

"Not THAT sort of target practice! She's talking about our chocolate chip throwing contest, you idiot," said Katie huffily.

"Chocolate and wacking. Mmm..you know, I think I've changed my mind. When are your meetings again?" questioned Seamus from further on down the table (a good thing he was not nearer the three girls, as they likely would have pummeled him if he had been within reach.)

"The chocolate chips are supposed to represent the snitch. You throw several of them into the air and then try to catch them all before they hit the ground," explained Angelina through gritted teeth. "It's practice for dexterity."

"I knew it! I knew you guys only complained about it because you didn't want the rest of us in on the fun," whined Seamus to George (who was still pondering the merits of jumping up from the table, running up to his room, and hiding beneath the covers.)

"I can show you where to get whipped cream if you need some," suggested Seamus. "Goes good with those chocolate chips." He then proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows outrageously at Parvati, who blushed (and furiously spent the rest of the morning trying to explain to Lavender that she had done no such thing.)

"Hey George," said Neville all of a sudden in an very unwelcome moment of understanding. "Is something the matter? You're awfully quiet this morning."

"Didn't even mention that I left out the cherry," said Seamus.

"That's Fred's thing, not mine," grumbled George, going from being grumpy in general to grumpy in particular (and wondering how Seamus would look with George's plate of oatmeal dumped all over his head.)

"Aha!" said Katie knowingly. "Got another one of Weezly's Wizard Wheezes' new products stuck in your throat, don't you? I told you the canary creams could choke a dragon, but nooo, you wouldn't listen to me. Well, serves you right." She began to get up from the table and proceeded to put her arms around his waist. George tried to jump up from the table, but couldn't as it was rather hard to with them both situated as they were, and instead ended up banging both of his shins.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelped.

Katie stared at him calmly. "The heimilich manavuer. No stay still. This'll only hurt for a minute-"

"-Before I die," muttered George, managing to fidget his way out of Katie's grasp. "I'm fine, Katie, honestly."

"Then explain why you are barefoot in the middle of winter."

".....". George stuffed more toast into his mouth, wishing he could simply vanish.

"Is going barefoot the newest protest for house elves obtaining better wear? Man, Hermione really has you wrapped around her finger. Next thing you know, you'll be jumping into the lake in the nude," said Seamus.

"The lake's frozen," pointed out Parvati with a roll of her eyes, before going back to talking to Ginny.

"Exactly," said Seamus knowingly.

That was it. George had it up to there with all this talk. Every time they mentioned Hermione, it brought up what had happened in his mind, the picture of her and Fred crystal clear in his mind's eye. He had intended to go to breakfast this morning and act as if nothing had happened, try his best to ignore Fred-if it was at all possible to ignore one's own brother who was also consequentially, a best friend-and not show how much it hurt.

But George, never very good at hiding his feelings (he'd never had a reason to before), was finding it impossible to do so. His enthusiasm was gone, at least temporarily, as were his good spirits.

"Oh, will you all just shut it?! Please? I'm all for chatter, but not at seven in the morning. And not today, of all days."

"Geez! Then don't listen," said Katie, rather offended. George was in the worst funk she'd seen since when his sister Ginny had been taken by the basilisk during her second year.

George looked at her blandly, gesturing to his ears, which were stuffed with napkins. "Tried to do that. Now you just sound like a bunch of bees."

"Does that mean we get to get swatted?" questioned Parvati, causing Ginny to giggle.

"Whoa, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Angelina said to George, then smiled evilly and gave a little chuckle. "Or should I say in the wrong bed altogether?"

The fork George had been fiddling with crashed to the floor and he bent over to pick it up. When he straightened, Angelina took one look in his eyes and shut up promptly, elbowing Katie to stop her laughing. She'd never seen George look so serious.

"DON'T even go there. Not now. Especially not when I have a lethal object on hand."

Alicia raised her eyebrows and glanced at the hand in question. "That's a spoon," she stated plainly. "And since when are kitchen utensils lethal in the hands of anyone other than Hagrid?"

George shrugged again. "That's not what I was talking about."

Neville scooted a bit farther away from George. "Um, George? Maybe you had better go back upstairs and have a little lie down. You know, just until you retain your sanity..."

"Or stab the pillows to death with your spoon, whichever comes first," quipped Lee as he sat down besides Alicia, giving her a good morning kiss.

His face was as jovial as ever, but behind it lay worry. Stuck between two friends was never an easy place to be. Knowing only one side of the story didn't help things either, and Lee was determined to find out George's viewpoint on the matter (though he already had a good idea it wasn't exactly one lenient towards either Fred or Hermione.)

George stood up from his table just as Fred sat down. He frowned. "Now George, look here. About last night..it wasn't what you thought."

George raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? My apologies for the misunderstanding then. Because I completely understand how you and Hermione decided to play bumper cars with your lips in the dark. Happens all the time in," George raised his voice angrily so that it was no longer a whisper. "Astronomy Tower."

" Yup, don't worry, I understand perfectly. It was pretty obvious. I wasn't supposed to be there. Sorry. I always did have bad timing. Next time, just tell me you'll be snogging her from midnight to one, and I'll remember to stay far away. Because I never want to see that again. EVER. In fact, I'd rather see Snape kiss McGonagall. I'd rather kiss Mrs. Norris and risk dying from inhalation of hairballs."

George knew he was ranting, and should just leave before it got any worse, but for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Once the words began pouring out of him, he couldn't call them back in. It was so easy to say things, so very much harder to retract them.

Lee stared at George in shock while Fred hissed "Keep it down, will you? If you'll just let me explain instead of going off like Professor Trelawnrey with that stupid fish bowl of a crystal ball, you'll find it's not what you think."

George raised an eyebrow, his voice turning cold. "Ooh wait, I was supposed to be there, then?"

Lee sighed. "Alright, that's it. Enough is enough!" Fred opened his mouth to speak, but Lee shook his head at him.

"No. You shut up."

George opened his mouth, and Lee shook his head at him as well. "You too."

He took a deep breath. "Fred, trying to explain isn't going to do any good right now. At all. Do you honestly think he is going to listen to you?"

"I know," said Fred in a strange tone of voice. "I just can't let him go on thinking that-that I ever meant to do a thing like that."

"No, no. Not that," said Lee impatiently. "He can't listen. His ears are stuffed with paper napkins." Lee spoke to George. "Take them out."

"Would it help if I said they were earmuffs?"

"No."

"Oh Fine. I mean, they are all that's between me and instant death, after all. When I die of hypothermia from lack of warmth in my ears, it'll be on your head."

Fred turned to George, too nervous to even get anything to eat. Last night's events hadn't been any easier or less shocking for him. " Hey, I don't expect you to want to listen, after what you saw, but just give me a chance to explain things."

"You'll be a whole lot saner..and it'll save all those hours of mopping when you try to clean up the blood," said Jordan sagely.

"Also save that spoon from getting all bent out of shape when you hit me over the head with it," said Fred. "And yes, you are too going to. I can tell. Twin telepathy."

George glared. "If you'd really read my thoughts right now, you would realize how very much I wish you'd go away."

"Gladly. I'll just go under the table, shall I?"

"Need I remind you both that we are at breakfast and if you two raise your voices a fraction louder,everyone will realize that it's not exactly the next bout of mischief you're planning?" broke in Lee.

George sighed. "Alright, I'm leaving." When he spoke to Fred, his voice was flat, a myriad number of emotions hidden behind its timbre. "I'm leaving because Lee's right, if I stay any longer, we'll end up arguing loud enough that not only will Professor Binns wake up at the head table from the noise, he'll jump so high, he'll end up hitting the ceiling. And you want to know another reason I'm leaving? Because I saw what happened and no amount of explaining can change that. I don't care if you swallowed poison and she was trying to drain it out of your system through your lips."

Fred made an exsasperated noise. "Will you stop getting so melodramatic? Kind of hard to explain when you keep going on."

"Melodramatic? Oh right, catching you snogging my girlfriend is so common these days. I should be patting you on the back, congragulating you, and telling you to treat Hermione well, is that it? Hermione's no one's property, she's not just something to pass along."

Fred shook his head, his voice soft. "Damn, I know that. George, you don't want to talk right now, fine, but can I met up with you later? Preferably sometime when you don't have napkins in your ears, circles under your eyes, and aren't walking around barefoot like some kind of abomindable snowman?"

George barely nodded. "Alright. Later."

It was only after George had dissapeared from the Gryffindor table and Katie was whispering to Alicia in a worried voice "what was that all about?" that it hit Fred that George had not specified a place. Great, just great. First Hermione kisses me for absolutely NO apparent reason, then George walks in, next thing you know George is on a quest to get me lost in Hogwarts, presumably forever.

Angelina leaned over towards Fred, her voice dangerously quiet and calm. "Apparently, I missed a lot yesterday. A whole lot. Care to fill me in?"

And Fred gulped, forgetting his past worries as he looked right into Angelina's eyes ( he could still give her his honesty, if nothing else) and steeled himself for the words he knew would upset her. Upset her more than anything he had done before. Fred, not usually the kind to be too wary of another's feelings, spoke gently, wishing he could spare her all of this, wishing nothing had ever happened, hoping she wouldn't cry, praying she wouldn't cry.

She didn't. She spoke just as gently back, and that was ten times worse.

********

Lee pushed aside his chair, whispered something to Alicia that made her nod in understanding, and rushed off after George.

"George, he does have a reason. Even if it's not one you like," Lee said, slightly out of breath from running to catch up with George outside the Great Hall. When George didn't reply, Lee bit his lip pensively before speaking. "Do you forgive him?"

It was not an easy question with an easy solution. George paused considerably before replying.

"Yes, but that doesn't make me any less upset." Maybe he didn't realize what he was doing, I don't know. But I'm not careless about other people's feelings, not like that, and you can rest assured if Angelina finds out about this whole mess, it won't be from me."

"What about Hermione? Do you forgive her?" questioned Lee, content to walk with George to well, who knew where. George himself certainly didn't seem to have any consious thought as to where he was heading. It was still early in the morning, and most of the students were only just arriving at breakfast.

"I..I don't know."

"Oh come on, George, you know she wouldn't do something like that,"

Lee comforted. He rethought his statement. "Errrm, well not unless she wanted to."

"Lee, you're as sympathetic as Snape after finals."

Lee grinned and affected an accent that stank to high heaven of bad acting. "Unfortunately, I can't have his complexion unless I steal Lavender's powder puff, but I do try my hardest. After all, he is my role model. Nothing more cool than that unruly hair, breathing in strands of it every time you open your mouth. Reminds girls of a cow chewing on a cud, and we all know how incredibly sheexy that is."

George gave a slight grin at Lee, glad the conversation was no more on what had happened the night before. Talking about it only seemed to make things all the more real, and to tell the truth, it still seemed dreamlike in his mind, he still couldn't believe that Hermione had kissed Fred. It went against pretty much everything he knew about her, and about his brother, which was a hell of a lot.

"Did I mention Snape was the one that gave Neville a zero because he cried on his exam when he messed up his potion? I should have. So, let's see...that makes you slightly more sympathetic than Snape, which in turn makes you, oh, about as sympathetic as a brick wall."

Lee reverted back to their previous conversation as they entered Professor Binn's clasroom (and scared off Peeves, who had been busy setting a pail of trash on top of the door with the utmost precision.)

"Besides, it could have been worse, it could have been Ron."

George stared at Lee with his jaw dropped. "And that is worse HOW?"

Lee, obviously realizing he'd said the wrong thing, flushed. "Because, umm, she used to have a crush on him and stuff."

"I thought it was other way around."

"Both ways, I thought. Well, kinda."

"Thank you very much," mumbled George. "All I need now is for Hermione to fall in love with Dobby and elope on the back of white ferret and my life will be complete."

"I don't think she'd do that, but Ginny might."

"WHAT??"

"Well, not the Dobby part, obviously. But the ferret part is definitely a possibility. Though I'm not sure about on his back. I was thinking more along the lines of in his arms, kicking and screaming."

"Errmm..What?"

Lee sighed. "No offense, but it would probably be a better idea to wait and tell you after you've remembered to switch the on button to your brain."

"That's like an idiot insulting another idiot by calling him an i-dot."

"Are you suggesting I have no brains?"

"Oh no, you have something in there alright. From the way you left that dent in that tree last week, I'm thinking a rock."

And things were back to normal, at least between George and Lee. For Fred and Hermione, George would not smooth things over so easily. Forgiving was one thing, but trusting was another altogether, a thing George was not sure he could any longer entrust either one with.

***********

When Hermione awoke, like George, her first thoughts were of the night before, of kissing Fred, of regret. She shuddered at the memory. How could she have mistaken Fred for George? Ironic, that she who had reassured George many a time that he and Fred were not interchangable, that the little sublities of personality made them who they were, had gone and kissed Fred.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was beginning to become a common mantra, as natural as breathing, one Hermione had been uttering ever since last night when George had ascended the stairs and seen them kissing before the portrait to the boy's dormitory. Reasons came up in defense of the mistake she made. In the dark, who could tell the difference? Of course, they were different on the inside, in their personalities-Fred was not George and George could never be Fred, in spite of both of them sharing a similiar optimistic view and live for the moment attitude-but on the outside, they were..identical.

Or nearly identical. Hermione happened to know a few minor blemishes to the perfect mirror images. Unfortunately, when it was dark (which was Hermione's main arguement in defense of her innocence) you couldn't see anything except the red of the coppery hair, the shadows that moved across the planes of the face.

Hermione replayed the events leading up to the kiss in her mind, willing herself to be calm and not do what first came to mind, which was scream as loud as she could and throw a pillow at Lavender, who had cucumbers over her eyes and a green face mask.

More out of concern for her pillow than Lavender, Hermione reconsidered and settled for only giving a very small, very unself-satisfactory "ugh."

She mulled over things for a few minutes while she lay in bed, unable for once in her life to have the incentive to jump out and get going. She felt sluggish. Oh, how she wished the sun would just reverse its cycle so she could get some sleep (and not have to deal with this for awhile.) But Hermione was mature, and not one to not face up to her mistakes. Okay, so she'd made a mistake.

The problem was, Hermione could face up to her mistakes easily. It was admitting them that wasn't even a remote possibility. She was Hermione Granger, top student. Any mistakes she made were realized quickly and never repeated. They were also covered up just as quickly so others could not see.

What are you going to do, run around placing memory charms on Fred and George?

More likely to place one on myself, thought Hermione as she remembered.

The quidditch game last night, being so dead tired, Gryffindor partying until midnight, Ron running around like a headless chicken after taking one of Weezly's Wizard Wheezes' new Hypo Honeycakes,

while Lavender jokingly tried to reign him in with confetti, all animiosity between them over Will forgotten temporarily.

Later, telling Fred/George how excellently he had played, kissing him. Feeling something was terribly wrong, like she was kissing a stranger. Looking into his eyes and seeing her worst fears confirmed, hazel instead of the lively, restless green they should have been. And lastly, the memory that was imprinted upon her mind like a stamp, George's face when he saw the two of them.

In her mind, everything had been catalogued so simply, one event leading to another. Facing up to the consequences of what had happened would be anything but simple.

When Lavender at last woke up to the grimy feeling of one of the cucumbers from her eye slipping down her pajama top, she was greeted by the sound of hiccuping.

Not even bothering to look for the source, Lavender fished the cucumber out of her pajamas, all the while grumbling "Oh, good lord, did you use up all the kleenex AGAIN? I told you Parvati, those romance books are complete and utter nonsense. If they weren't, everyone wouldn't just go off to a rainbow, eat cereal for the rest of their days, and prance around doing the jig with a bunch of leprechauns. I mean, come on. That one tale where the munchkin marries the town tailor? If he kissed her, he'd swallow her whole!

Lavender paused for breath, obviously expecting Parvati to say something. When she didn't, and Lavender only heard another onslaught of sniffles and sobs, Lavender continued. "Well, if you're going to cry all over the place, go get a towel or something." The sobs continued, louder. Lavender screwed up her face. "Or a bucket. Just not on the coverlets. Remember, those sheets are satin. And MINE, I might add."

The lone cucumber still on her face at last slipping off to hide itself among the bedspread, Lavender noticed she might as well have been talking to herself for all the good her little speech had done. Hermione, not Parvati, was sitting amid a neatly made bed, which she was promptly destroying as she sobbed into the coverlet.

Lavender automatically went over and sat beside Hermione, giving her a hug, her response very much different than it would have been if Parvati had allowed the watergates to flow. Parvati cried approximately every two days, or more. It depended on how often she found a new romance novel to read.

In contrast, Hermione's giving way to tears was a rare occurence, one that took place about as often as Draco didn't stare in a mirror. Therefor, in Lavender's sensible mind, Hermione afforded much more sympathy. It must have been something really horrible to upset her so.

"Why, whatever is the matter?"

Hermione sniffled, muttering a bunch of undistinguishable things, from which "ruined the covers" was the only phrase unmuddled by her fall of tears.

Lavender raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the rip down at the bottom of the blankets. Well, this was strange, not what she would have expected Hermione to be all worried about, but still, you never knew about some people...

She patted Hermione's back soothingly. "Now, now, I know it's distressing to think of the covers being ruined, but never you mind. They're made of the same material as Draco's cloak and well," she grinned. "I'm sure he won't mind if I sneak down to the Slytherin dormitories and cut off a tinsy piece to patch this up."

Hermione stopped her flow of tears to look at Lavender in astonishment. "You think?- No, it has absolutely nothing to do with that. I never even noticed the covers were ripped." Here, Lavender gave an unapproving shake of her head.

"Well, what is is then?" cut in Lavender impatiently, checking her watch. "While I'm all for skipping breakfast in order to get trim and fit, I'm not for it when we have Hagrid teaching home economics for lunch. Going without two meals is bad for my constitution."

"-but good for fainting practice," pointed out Hermione, feeling more like herself as her tears subsided.

"Don't be silly," said Lavender. "You know that idea was all Parvati's. Just trying to hook Seamus, of course." She rolled her eyes. "Even I could have told her you faint down steps, not UP them."

Hermione brushed away the last of her tears. "I don't really know how to say it..."

Lavender grinned. "This could turn into a really good game of charades. Which means we'll be here all day, seeing as I am the worst guesser in the world."

Hermione snorted. "Modesty really doesn't work for you, Lavender."

"Oh, alright, fine. I'm the best. In fact, I already know what's wrong. There, how's that?"

Hermione gave a sniffle, not really sure Lavender was the sort of person to trust. Lavender wasn't a bad friend, except when it came to secrets, which Hermione very wisely kept to herself. "If you really know what's wrong, then I suppose the whole school must."

"Only the half that has trouble sleeping," assured Lavender, to which Hermione's eyes widened. "No, I'm kidding. No one knows besides me, Ron, and Lee. We were walking up the stairs when George rushed past us like Filch was a foot behind him and we saw...well, you can answer that."

When Hermione said nothing, Lavender went on. " It was too dark to see properly-trust me, my toes turned black and blue from Ron stepping on them so much-just who were you kissing, Hermione?"

Still, Hermione said nothing, afraid to trust Lavender. She most empathically did not want the whole of Hogwarts abuzz about her current little mishap.

"I won't tell a soul," promised Lavender. "Really."

"Why?"

"Because, I just wouldn't." Lavender smiled. "You and Parvati are my friends. You think I haven't had rumors told about me daily? I know what it's like and I'm not about to do the same to you. You don't tell rumors about me, I don't tell rumors about you. You don't believe rumors about me, I don't believe rumors about you. What you give it was you get. That's how it works." Lavender's face drooped a bit. "You don't mean to say you believe all those rumors about me after all? Because I thought you were one of the few people that didn't."

"I don't," Hermione assured her, not telling a complete lie, but not telling the complete truth either. Lavender was a confusing person. Half of the time she seemed everything the rumors said, the other half she was..well...Lavender, not the image she always was projecting.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione, ever cautious, decided to take a chance. "Alright..it was Fred."

Those words alone were enough to send Lavender reeling. As it was, her eyes turned bigger than they had been even with cucumbers atop them, her eyebrows nearly dissapearing into her curlers out of disbelief. "Why-What-"

Lavender calmed down slightly, tapping her forehead. "Did you fall out of bed or did Parvati throw another book at you for snoring or something? Are you daft or have you always been this insane and I've just failed to notice?"

Hermione rubbed her forehead. "No, no, no, and no..I think."

Lavender nodded. "That's what I thought. A loony in denial." She nodded again. "They always are."

"Angelina would take those comments about Fred as an insult."

"I don't care. It's not Angelina I'm talking to. Besides, Angelina isn't dating someone else and kissing another."

"Oh sure, and you're one to talk!" shouted Hermione quite suddenly, eyes blazing as she bolted up from the bed.

Lavender just sat, completely flummoxed, looking as if she had been slapped and trying to get rid of the queasy feeling in her stomach that insisted Hermione was right.

"Lav, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"It's...alright." Lavender frowned. "You're lucky you aren't anyone else. Very lucky. Because if you were, I would have thrown you right out that window and down, down, down into the quidditch field."

"No you wouldn't have."

Lavender flushed slightly at being caught exaggerating, it had always been one of her hardest habits to break. "Well, I would at least have thrown my collection of lipstick at you." Then, when Hermione smiled. "My black collection of lipstick, which, I do believe, is somewhat poisonious. So there."

"It's just..it seems everyone has been jumping to conclusions-Fred, George, and even you-and it's so frusterating, like talking to someone for an hour only to realize they've been asleep the whole time," said Hermione as Lavender, privately saying a fond good-bye to the chance of any breakfast, began pulling on nylons.

"Aha! I knew you'd been reading Parvati's books. Confess. You have, haven't you?"

"I would rather be forced to read the Magical Unabridged Dictionary backwards."

"My point," said Lavender with a nod. "In that case, you've probably read her whole collection."

"So what did happen?"

"It was an accident."

"I figured as much. But how?"

"How? Think, Lavender. It was dark, I couldn't see a thing!"

"Well, you obviously could see his mouth," said Lavender mischeviously, to which Hermione whapped her with a pillow.

"Will you be serious? I thought it was George.."

"When did you realize it wasn't?"

Hermione went out the portrait, bag bulging with books as was normal, frizzy hair being pulled back into a bun as was also normal.

"Oh, I don't know. The moment George showed up and stared at me like Ron does every time I mention homework?"

"Just apologize to him. Unless he's got very selective hearing and his brain has been temporarily replaced by a bowl of oatmeal, he'll at the very least have to hear you out before he hexes you." Lavender smiled. "In which case, I'll be sure to arrange a very nice, color coordinated funeral."

"With plenty of roses? He's allergic to them."

"Sure thing."

"You are far too morbid," said Hermione as they made their way down the staircase (ignoring Peeves, who by this point, had given up sliding down banisters and any other forms of entertainment for just being content to point and laugh at anyone who walked by, in the hopes of emberassing them enough to make them miss the trick steps.)

"Morbid? No, if I was morbid I would have locked both of you in Snape's wardrobe until you apologized."

"Thanks," said Hermione dryly. "It's reassuring to know I have such supportive friends."

"You're welcome. Really not such a bad idea, come to think of it." Lavender stole the hankerchief Hermione was blowing into to catch her attention.

"You had better dry your tears," she said matter of a factly. "Or your nose will swell to the size of a salami."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose that's real life. One stupid mistake ruins everything."

Lavender studied her face. "You aren't talking about your nose swelling, are you?"

"Of course not! I could care less if my whole face turned into an enormous carrot and I spouted broccoli from my ears. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I hurt George's feelings and I haven't the slightest idea how to go about apologizing."

"You apologized to me earlier. How much harder can he be?"

"It's not the same."

"Why?"

Hermione was surprised at Lavender's lack of knowledge on the matter. For all she had been in so many relationships, she really didn't seem to understand what they were about. But then, that was what being sixteen was for, wasn't it? Figuring out stuff.

"It just isn't."

"Here we go," said Lavender, pulling on Hermione's arm to enter Professor Binn's classroom. "Remember," she added, with a wink." If you faint, faint in the direction of George, not me. And don't listen to a word Ron says. Remember, he saw everything too, and he stayed up so late pacing, I'm surprised he didn't march right through the ceiling."

"Probably been practicing with cue cards to scold me," guessed Hermione gloomily as Lavender went off to sit beside Parvati (and tease Parvati over the ever clueless Seamus.) Then there was Harry to explain things to. Hermione somehow less dreaded telling him than Ron. He was much more likely to listen to her all the way through before commenting. It was one thing she appreciated about Harry. His ability to just be silent and listen, to think before judging anyone. Ron was much more rash, though Hermione cared for him as a friend in her own way.

She saw Ron, arms gesturing wildly in the air as he gestured to Harry something or other. Quidditch strategies, no doubt, thought Hermione, relieved they at least weren't talking about her escapade the night before.

Boys. Hmph. Leave them alone for five seconds and the topic somehow always managed to revert itself to quidditch.

And Hermione, straightening her back and raising her head, willing herself to stare only at the dusy chalk board and not to where she knew George would be sitting, looked unapologetic and proud, confident and assured. No matter how much she bled on the inside, the outside would stay as white as snow. This was not to say she didn't show her feelings, she simply didn't show those that were perceived as being a weakness.

Keeping sadness, confusion, and hurt inside had never been such a chore before because during the past year, she had not had to hide. Slowly, with George, she had been opening herself layer by layer, breaking down wall by wall, to become more laid back and lose her many layered shell that was not so much to protect her from hurt as just something that had always been there, so long she was not sure how to remove it, how to see beyond schoolwork and obligation and rules, without help.

Apologies were never something she had been good at. She was too proud. And scared. She had to be in control, to know what would happen next in life. No surprises. Apologizing was placing yourself in someone else's hands, theirs to accept or refuse. Weaknesses..Hermione hated having any, though she couldn't have said why that was any more than she understood the shell that kept her from cutting lose and having fun much of the time. There was just something about being average and having faults that was so frightening.

How was apologizing average? Hermione wasn't sure, her thoughts were running far and wide, she wasn't her usual rational self as her cheeks flushed, trying to avoid George's eyes (which wasn't difficult, considering they weren't seeking her out) and sitting down next to Ron and Harry.