Curiousity Treats

6 o'clock in the morning would've been quite a lovely hour of the day if the equally lovely Weasley twins didn't spend the entire night composing genres of explosion. Fred Weasley, drowsy and unattentive, lay on the grass with his eyes completely shut. George Weasley, equally drowsy and unattentive, sat with his arms behind him grasping the blades for support. Both red heads took time to enjoy the feel of the morning breeze against their pale freckled skin. A few seconds of gentleness to balance their chaotic preferences.

"I reckon it will take another 20 minutes, eh? Let's head on back and take a quick nap," George mumbled, his eyes half open.

"No, no. They're here," Fred mumbled, despite having his eyes closed. "I can hear Ron walking. Git walks awfully loud."

"Ah." George's eyelids fully opened for the first time that day and straightened. Fred followed in the same gingerly manner, swatting blades of grass off his pant leg.

Ron Weasley, quite the gentleman, held three enourmous bags in both hands, whilst trying to walk with an effortless expression. Despite his attempts, his cheeks crept up in crimson. Beside him awkwardly walked Hermione Granger who seemed to be aware of the weight of her uncharmed luggage.

"Ron, I could help you with those, they are mine after all," Hermione reached out to the nearest bag.

"Oh no, this is nothing. You just watch your steps, some gnomes are out on the loose again," Ron huffed, grinning to her side.

Unconvinced and indignant, the petite lady of an astounding mental capacity and determination beyond her years snatched the smallest pouch.

"Mione-"

"I needed it after all, I had to get my cellphone to contact my parents." She explained nonchalantly.

"Cellphone? Is that what you call those muggle inventions that spin your laundry and bubble up with powdered soap..."

"No, Ron. Cellphone, cellular phone. A muggle device used to contact people with the use of wireless signal and- oh!" Her vibrant red muggle device flew out of her hands and soared through mid air.

Fred Weasley grinned ear to ear, caged in his long fingers was Hermione's cellphone. Hermione stared at him, a deadly expression crossed her pink face.

"Looking for this, love? Quite interesting aren't they? Muggles, I mean? You have to hand it to them, electronics is quite complicated. I believe this term you refer to, "signal", I think? Almost acts as an invisible force available within a certain range and allows connection. Muggle magic, I call it."

"Fred Weasley, please return my rightfully owned belonging," Hermione stomped towards him. The bundles of chaos attached to her head frizzled in the cold. Ron stumbled behind her, attempting to say something but ended up knocking down a few other bags.

Fred Weasley tossed his new object of affection to George Weasley, who caught it just as enthusiastically.

"Give us time to inspect, love. Dad's never gotten a hold of something as keen as this. Mum usually forbids him to do so."

"Well your mum wouldn't like to hear both of you in possession of an unrightfully owned object snatched from your visitor," Hermione stood still, her eyes fixed towards the area that lay beyond the twins.

Their eyes widened in late realization.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY," The shrillest of voices emerged from the backs of their heads. Simultaneously, both gingers twitched. Fred gave a low sigh and George took this as a sign to toss back the vibrant little muggle device.

"Thank you," she smiled, not meeting their eyes and catching the cellphone. An air of triumph surrounding her, she marched back to a busy Ron.

"TREATING VISITORS IN DISRESPECT AGAIN, ALL FOR A BLASTED MUGGLE DEVICE. AS IF YOUR FATHER'S DAILY SURPRISES AREN'T ENOUGH. USING MAGIC JUST BECAUSE YOU TURNED OF AGE RECENTLY. YOUR ROOM IS A TERRIBLE MESS-"

"Now hold on, mum. Why bring up our room? Why couldn't you save that sermon and not combine it with the recent scolding. In our defense, our room is battlefield art-"

"NOW YOU LISTEN HERE, FRED WEASLEY. I WANT NO MESS. NO CHAOS. NO EXPLOSIONS THE ENTIRE TIME HERMIONE STAYS HERE. MARCH OFF AND EMPTY YOUR ROOM."

"EMPTY?" Both of them shot up in surprise, towering over ther mother. Their startling height in comparison to the stout Mrs. Weasley only further defined the sudden changes that occured the past month. Their vibrant ginger hair framed their faces in perfect length. Their skinny postures started to take its turn to masculinity. They held themselves with an air of confidence and new held maturity(or at least when needed). In turn, more female heads started to turn their way when their daily strolls in Diagon Alley took place.

Slightly oblivious to all this, the twins prioritized the new direction of their joke shop(a topic that has yet to be discussed in the Weasley residence) and assumed that the increase of interested women in their life was a cause of their usual charm.

"Yes, dears. We're magically turning your room into a two storey compartment, hurry and temporarily hide the arrangement of your room. We're reorganizing." Mrs. Weasley explained, her tone calming down.

"But what about Ginny's room?" George spat, his eyes clouding in desperation.

"Ginny will be with Aunt Olive. And since your room is the biggest, the two storey compartment will work the best with yours. What's with the fuss, nothing much will change, dears. You'll just be having an extra neighbor, but sweet Hermione isn't anything to worry about. So go now, and empty!"

An incredulous look passed both the indenticals, notches formed in the middle of their throats. Rearranging their room! What a thought!

"GO!" The bellow was the final push. There was no getting out, both of them pondered on miserably. Fred and George Weasley calculated the many schemes able to dismiss this one, but alas, ended up with none.

"Not budging again! I guess I'll have to do this one myself-"

"NO!"

"OH, MUM! YOU SAINT!"

"How could we possibly allow you to tire yourself at this age?" Both twins rushed inside, their insides jolting. If mum were to find their many experiments... oh they'd be decaying corpses for sure.

Fred and George Weasley stood in an empty room, silence ringing so loud in their ears. The old scent of wood sent the rush of childhood memories galloping in those mischievous minds of theirs.

"Well, it does look pretty big in comparison to Ginny's," George stated glumly.

"I hope mum doesn't resize it to half the size. Such a stuffy space won't contain me," George continued, sighing.

Fred was about to comment on this but refrained as he heard a small creak from the doorstep area.

At first all he could see was a bundle of brown haystacks, later realizing they lead to a face. They wouldn't admit it, or realize it, even, but the dear Hermione Granger grew up as well. She no longer walked with her head bowed in the middle of the corrigdors, no longer spent 99% of the time in the library. The percentage ran down to 65% now. She had a bright face and an aura of determination around her. The knowledge she carried balanced with her level of maturity. Her bright eyes shone, and her cheekbones started to portrude.

Maybe it was this sudden realization or maybe it was just the alarming fact that she stood in their room that kept the twins quiet as she walked in.

"I would like to talk to you both," She said, looking them both in the eye. Her expression indifferent.

"Well, you could've knocked, maybe," Fred eyed her, half of him blaming her visit on his current dilemma

Hermione Granger cleared her throat, her fingers slowly interwining with the hems of her skirt. "I wouldn't like to consume much of your precious time so now that I stand here, just to get the point, no introductions or anything to stall, I would just like to say-"

"Hurry, love. I'm as wrinkled as dear ol' Dumbledore," George teased.

"If you don't want me as near as I will soon be once this room is rearranged, you might as well tell me," She finished.

Maybe it was the feeling of being unwanted that made Hermione fumble. Sure she's been branded an unlikely friend for her remarkable intelligence and hissed at during classroom discussions for her astounding recitation. She was independent, she carried that well. But this was different. If she was simply a bother outside the area of academics at such a point, she would like to know.

Fred's face softened. George raised his eyebrows.

Fred started chuckling, it was uncontrollable despite his efforts to keep them subtle. He looked her in the eye and found her confusion in the matter. His lips curled into a smile.

"It isn't that, my dear Granger. We simply have a lot of possesions to take care of that we would dislike to be mingled with or rearranged. You are free to lurk near our abode provided that you don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions. That was the first rule.

"Secondly, no disturbances," George joined in.

No disturbances. That was the second rule.

"Specifically what possessions are you refering to, Mister Fred Weasley? I, for one, would like to know the types of substances that lie a few meters before me."

"Not quite hazardous, honestly. And you just broke the first rule," George quipped.

"Your definitions of "hazardous" is alarmingly different from the accepted universal definition, I believe," Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"Ah love, trust us and try not to care," Fred subtlely pushed her towards the door entrance.

Trust us and try not to care. That was the third rule.

"If my death stands an arms length away from me, Fred, I think it would be rational to care," She went on, but she stepped out of their room anyway.

Slowly, he approached her and closed the space between. She stood in front of him, her eyes still indifferent, the logic of her side clouding her aura. It was one of those many things about Hermione that you couldn't miss. She was, after all, very logical.

"You are quite a bother. If that answers the question you came here to ask," ending their conversation, in a wittingly annoying banter, Fred Weasley closed the door. And it was his plastered smirk that was the last thing she saw before she stood completely alone.

Sliding her tender hands down the banister as she trotted down the staircase, Hermione Granger couldn't decide on whether she felt satisfied or not. Dismissing her thoughts with a slight shake of the head, she hurried down to a tired Ron Weasley.