Curiousity Treats

Dinner at The Burrow was a splendid feast. The presence of Hermione, Lupin and Tonks sent delight radiating through the Weasleys' freckled skins, the abundance of red hair in the residence seemed to be more vividly prominent, if that were possible. Hermione stopped to subtlely observe the giddiness of her companions. Despite herself, she chuckled at the sight of it all.

Beside her, Ginny Weasley laughed histerically at the constantly deforming face of Nymphadora Tonks. She was now a very pinched looking old woman with her eyes as thin as slits and her lips a particle away from being invisible. Hermione choked on her drink and laughed along.

"Well aren't you having a wonderful time, dear," Tonks smiled, her alarmingly thin lips curling up into a tiny horse shoe shaped grin.

"Yes, yes I am," Hermione breathed as she gulped down another butterbeer.

Her eyes strayed away and found herself looking at Ron who at the precise same moment met her eye, he smiled a little and she gave a small one back. He glanced awkwardly at a vacant stool and she knew he was thinking the same worries she silently tried to avoid.

Harry must be furious.

All the guilt she hastilly tried to bottle down came rushing right up in startling momentum. He'd hate us terribly for having such a good time without him and not offering any news at all, she thought. Oh, she felt deeply saddened. Surely, he'd understand. Although with his reputation to be stubborn at times and rash, also adding up to the fact that he's spending another dreadful summer at the Dursleys', Hermione twinged in doubt. Hesitantly, she looked back at Ron who was no longer looking at her but instead, was very much absorbed with Lupin's tales.

"Looking melancholy, love?" A quiet voice whispered in her ear. Fred Weasley sat down beside her, a trinket in his hand.

"I was just thinking," Hermione replied, her voice small as she tried not to meet his gaze.

"Don't we all think? I would like to believe that I don't make such a face when I do, however."

Hermione looked at Fred thoughtfully, and for the first time that day, realized how drowsy he did look. He had a lame smile on his face and his eyelids met half way, but in the midst of it all, he eyed everything with such keen delight and enthusiasm. She smiled despite herself.

"You're tired," she pointed out, straightforwardly.

"Is that what you do with your spare time? Scrutinize people's faces and determine whether or not they need rest? Uncanny habit, i must say," He looked over his shoulder and found George curled up on a sofa, his mouth hanging wide open.

In this exact split second, Hermione took this time to watch Fred's eyes light up in mocking delight. "Git," he mumbled softly.

"I know you're staring at me," He chuckled, looking forward to meet her gaze.

"I find it quite fascinating, the both of you."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, "No surprise there, I suppose. We are quite fascinating beings."

"You are peculilarly bright men, terribly mischevous and such, successful when it comes to business, dreadfully annoying conversationalists, smart enough to attain more than 3 O. each yet you spend 90% of your study time creating massive useless objects. Despite all this, you emmit the air of conquering the world together." It was fast, and she felt quite light headed in the process, but they were words itching from the back of her throat. She had to let out her ponders.

"That's exactly that, isn't it? The world isn't cornered by academics, is it? Living is happiness in a hundred bottles. You have to experience life everywhere," he was staring at her thoughtfully now, seriously now, and she couldn't remember the last time he has ever looked at her like that. "Why say all this now, Granger? I may be tired, but I am surely not drunk. I'd remember all these sweet words of yours in the morning."

She didn't know either. And there were very few things in the world that Hermione Granger didn't know.

"I would like to understand you, but for now I'm heading to bed," she faked a convincing yawn and stretched her arms, which have actually been numb the entire night.

"Good night, Fred," she smiled lazily, sitting up and patting his shoulder.

The night was still young, adolescents and adults alike still kept the level of delight in the Burrow as more butterbeer glasses started to empty. As she stood at the foot of the staircase, Hermione listened to the laughs and clink of glassware. A slow smile crept up her face, and with that, she tiptoed her way upstairs to leave unnoticed.

Except of course, she wasn't. From the corner of his eye he watched her make her way. It alarmed him how he felt the need to keep her some company, as well as how well it mingled well with his sleep deprivation dilemma.

Shaking his flame of ginger, he dismissed every thought as George trotted about beside him.

"What was that about?" He eyed him drowsily.

"What was what about?" The innocence clouding his face. But he was Fred Weasley, and he was talking to George Weasley. If the world were a flobberworm, everything would change except for the fact that there is nothing Fred Weasley can hide from George Weasley.

"Correct me if i'm wrong, but i think i saw a little something there, mate," It was the unmistakable smirk of George, quite identical to his own, but of course he found his a tad more handome.

"Well, then I am correcting you, for you are wrong," He faced his twin, mocking the same smirk pasted on his face.

George was going to make a comeback for this in two miliseconds flat, but was, alas, disturbed by their annoying little git of a brother.

"Fred," Ron mumbled slightly, "George."

The two older flames of vivid red turned towards his direction, the same set of identical curiosity crossed their faces. "What's up, bro?" They chorused.

"I-I have to ask you a little something."