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Bound Together (1/?)
Chapter 1-The Betrayal
It was a cold and starless winter's night, which made it so dark outside that nobody could see their hand in front of their face without the aid of artificial light or night-vision goggles. Down in the nearby village, the last light visible through a window was turned off as the occupant of the house decided that it was finally time to go to sleep. If it had been a larger town, perhaps the street lights would have remained on all night, but as there were only a few people living there, and the only road into town never saw any travelers after dark, the lights were turned off at midnight to save money. It was a quiet night, just like any other.
About a mile away from town, there was a hill. It wasn't big; it was really more like a mound than a hill, but children from town would soon be sledding down it after the snowstorm that was coming into town in a couple of days. It would be hard to imagine a less likely place in all of Britain, for anything to happen at that time of night.
But this night was different. A man, tall, pale, and somewhat lanky, wearing a thick black cloak suddenly appeared at the apex of the hill. His eyes were an unnatural scarlet color, his nose was flat and undefined, and he had an extremely weak chin. This man didn't exactly look human at all, but more like a daemonic being straight out of the pits of hell. In fact, the only thing missing was the forked tail.
"Come to your master, my servants," hissed the man, who had a voice that was somehow colder than the night. Suddenly, others began to appear in a circle around him. These men, for they were all men, were also wearing heavy black cloaks, but they were all wearing black masks that covered their faces except for their eyes.
"And where is my newest servant?"
Two of the men stepped forward towards their master, muttered some words, and suddenly, another man stood before them. He, unlike the others, was wearing a hooded red cloak. The pale-faced man then stepped towards this figure and lowered the hood.
"Cornelius Fudge, you have finally decided to give up the losing fight, I see. Honestly, I still wonder what took you so long," said the master.
"I was blinded by that fool, Dumbledore, into thinking that fighting you was worthwhile, my lord. However, I renounce the ways of cowardice and suffering to join you and become more powerful," Fudge said.
"Yet you have power of your own, do you not? After all, you are the Minister of Magic, aren't you?"
"That is true, my lord, but adding my power to yours could be beneficial to us all. I am sick and tired of trying to protect Muggles when I honestly feel that we should be ruling them. We are superior to them, and as such, we should be the ones in charge." Fudge began to shiver from the cold.
"Ah, so you finally came to your senses. Then you are certainly most welcome into the fold as my right-hand man. To complete the process, there is yet one more thing you must do for me," the master hissed. "Bring the victim forward, please, Lucius."
One of the men in the circle then came forward, and pulled a piece of wood out of a pocket. After waiving it around in the air, an old woman suddenly appeared.
"Please don't hurt me, I beg you. I've done nothing to you, and I have grandchildren to look after," pleaded the old woman.
"Silence, Muggle. Never plead to Lord Voldemort, as it is of no use. Now, Fudge, do it," hissed the Dark Lord.
"Indeed my lord," responded Fudge. "Avada Kedavra!"
And in a flash of green light, the woman fell to the ground, dead.
"Welcome to the fold, Minister Fudge," said Lucius Malfoy. "Now, if you would, please remove your cloak and bare your left arm." Fudge did as he was told. Then, Voldemort stepped up to the Minister of Magic, pressed his wand to his arm, and the Dark Mark began to form.
"There's just one thing left, my servant," Voldemort hissed.
"And what would that be, my lord?"
Voldemort then extended his wand once more, pointed it towards Fudge, and roared, "Crucio!"
At that same moment, two hundred miles away, a loud scream awoke the entire population of Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione came charging into Harry's room frantically. She was the closest person to him as they were Head Boy and Girl, and their rooms were joined by a small common area for the two of them. The panic on her face was evident, considering the fact that Harry hadn't screamed that loudly in his sleep since the night Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacked the village of Hogsmeade last year. Unfortunately, the Aurors hadn't gotten there in time to apprehend anyone, and all anyone could do was stare in dismay as the bodies were collected.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, already knowing at least part of the answer: Obviously, Voldemort had used one of the Unforgivable curses on someone, and given the intensity of the scream, it must have been someone involved in the fight against him.
"It's Fudge."
Hermione automatically assumed the worst thing she could think of: Voldemort had killed Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
"Voldemort killed Fudge? Oh, Harry. I know you didn't like him all that much, considering the fact that he never believed a single word you said, but still…"
"Fudge isn't dead. He's become a Death Eater."
Hermione pulled Harry into the hardest hug that had ever been given. This was a heavy blow to all those who were fighting Voldemort's second rise to power. Now that the head of the magical government was no longer on their side, things seemed bleak indeed.
"We need to get to Dumbledore immediately. He needs to know," Harry said, a dejected tone evident in his voice.
"I agree. Let me cover up a bit, and we'll go together. I might suggest you do the same," Hermione stated, noting that Harry was wearing no more than a pair of silk boxers. Not that she was wearing much more herself-just a pair of shorts and a tank top. She looked back at Harry, noticing the physique that he had grown into over the years. While it was true that he didn't exactly look like Fabio, and he didn't have a true washboard stomach, his muscles were quite well-defined. She thought, just for a moment, that she would like to see a bit more of him, but then she reminded herself that he was her best friend, that she shouldn't be thinking about him like that, and that the last time she had dated one of her best friends, it had been disastrous.
"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Harry noted nonchalantly, though not taking his eyes off of Hermione for one moment. Her nightclothes left very little to the imagination, and Harry could easily see that she wasn't the little girl that he had saved from a troll just six years earlier. She had filled out quite nicely, with a chest that he spent many hours a day admiring-when she wasn't paying attention of course. If she had known about that, she probably would have caused him a significant amount of pain. She curved pleasantly in all the right places, and her legs had become quite long and defined. This, on top of the fact that many guys (but not Harry or Ron) would comment that she had the nicest butt in all of Hogwarts when she wasn't around. Harry awoke from his Hermione-induced trance when he heard the door close behind her. No, he shouldn't be thinking of her like an object. After all, she was Hermione, for crying out loud.
Harry pulled on his bath robe and stepped out into the antechamber that connected their rooms to the common room outside to find Hermione sitting by a fire that she had just conjured up to heat the room.
"Okay, let's go," Harry said.
It was a good thing that they were Head Boy and Girl. Among the perks of the job was that they were allowed to go out into the castle at night without worrying about running into Filch or Mrs. Norris. As they set out to Dumbledore's office, they began to instinctively seek out each other's warmth, as it was winter. They weren't exactly fully dressed, and the castle had a tendency to be a bit drafty. If a passerby had seen them, he would have immediately concluded that the two of them were a couple. In fact, many had noticed how close the two had become over the years. Even Ron was beginning to get a bit jealous of Harry, as he still carried a bit of a torch for Hermione, though the feelings were never quite returned. However, as long as neither of them acted on the feelings that they constantly denied they had, even to themselves, he was fine. Actually, a good number of the residents had taken to starting a pool on when the two of them would get together. Fred and George, though no longer at Hogwarts, managed the pool from their store in Hogsmeade. Fortunately, their shop had not been attacked on that horrible night the previous year. Of course, Ron didn't know, as the twins knew what the consequences of informing him would be.
At length, Harry and Hermione reached the gargoyle entrance to Dumbledore's office. After speaking the password ("African Swallow"-over the summer break, Dumbledore took some time to study Muggle entertainment, and acquired a less-than-healthy obsession with the comedic style of the Monty Python gang), the two took the now-familiar moving staircase to the wizened old headmaster's private chamber.
When they entered, they saw Professor Dumbledore at his desk, in his nightclothes, yet very much awake.
"What's going on, Professor?" Harry asked, noting Dumbledore's attire.
"Harry, your scream was loud enough to wake the entire castle. I figured you'd be coming by here shortly. What's Voldemort up to now?"
"Fudge has gone and joined the Death Eaters."
At this pronouncement, the expression on Dumbledore's face changed, becoming highly distraught.
"For some reason, Harry, Hermione, I'm not surprised. He and Lucius Malfoy were quite chummy in their days here. When I found out that he had been selected to be Minister of Magic, I was quite worried, knowing the Malfoy family's deep entrenchment in the Dark Arts. Someone that close to such a family installed as the head of our government was a bad idea in the first place. If I had known that the ministry would choose him when I turned the job down, I would have taken it in a heartbeat."
"But sir, what happens now?" Hermione asked, the fear evident in her voice.
"Leave that to me. However, since we can no longer trust the government, all students will be allowed to stay here at all times, even over the summer holidays, especially those from Muggle families. I will also be calling those who are loyal to our side here to figure out what to do immediately. You two will also be invited to the meetings, as well as your friend, Mr. Weasley, considering that the three of you have a vested interest in our plans. Now, might I suggest that you get back to your rooms and try to get some sleep?"
With that, Harry and Hermione left Dumbledore's office. When they got back to their rooms, neither wanted to let the other out of their sight, nor did they want to give up the comfort of being in the other's arms, so they decided to sleep in Harry's bed, as it was closer to the door, and the two of them were still quite tired.
When Harry came to consciousness the next morning, he was startled at the extra presence in his bed. Memories of the night before came rushing back to his mind, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing happened, he told himself, no matter how much he wished something would-though he would never admit it, even to himself. Harry took the time to just watch Hermione sleeping there, in his arms, looking so peaceful and content. He knew it was cliché, but he couldn't help himself. What else was he supposed to do? Wake her up? No, he decided that it was probably best that he not disturb her, as he had no clue how she would react to their situation, especially if she didn't awake naturally.
Just then, Hermione's eyes opened, and looked straight into his. He was busted, and he knew it.
"You know, you're not supposed to ogle your best friend, Harry," Hermione joked sleepily. If she had meant it, she would have felt a bit hypocritical, as she had secretly been admiring him for a while now. She didn't know when it had started, but all the same, it was a bit disturbing, being intensely attracted to her best friend.
"I wouldn't have that problem if my best friend wasn't one heck of a woman. Smart, funny, sassy, and the perfect body, what male with a pulse could possibly stop himself from admiring you?"
"You're just saying that to be nice. I know I'm not that good looking. That's Lavender and Pavati's department."
"Hermione, dear, look in the mirror some time, would you? You're easily the most attractive girl in all of Hogwarts."
"If I didn't know any better, Harry, I'd say that you were coming on to me. But you really were never one for flirting. In fact, I'd be surprised if you even knew how."
"There's some truth to that statement. However, I stand behind my judgment. Several others do too. Heck, there are a lot of guys who are just queuing up for a chance to date you."
"So then, why don't they ask me out?"
"I don't know. Maybe they witnessed what happened with Ron."
"They should know that the whole Ron incident was a mistake on both sides. Besides, sometimes I think his idea of trying to chat up a girl is to get a rise out of her to the point that she must slap him, just because she's tried everything else. Frankly, it might be a good idea if someone were to set that poor boy straight."
"Perhaps the boy could take some lessons from the rest of the girls, if you can talk them into it. They could set him straight."
"Or at least, they could give him a makeover. That would be good for a laugh."
"I can just see it now: Ron with layers of makeup all over his face. That would be one heck of a picture, and you can bet that someone would take it." They both started to laugh so hard that the mattress began to shake beneath them, moving their bodies against each other in a fashion that sent both of their minds into places that they didn't belong. After all, they were best friends, nothing more. Harry's reaction, in particular, was enough to make him stop laughing quite suddenly. Silently, he prayed that she wouldn't notice. As it so happened, luck was with him, and she didn't question why he suddenly sat up.
"You know, we'd better get dressed and get down to breakfast," Harry said in a tone that he hoped was lazy.
"Yeah, it would be best, considering the fact that I'm actually quite hungry. I'll go so we both can get dressed," Hermione replied. She then got up, kissed him on the forehead (even hours later, he still felt a burning sensation where her lips touched his skin), and left the room.
Without a single moment's hesitation, Harry leapt up from his bed and ran to the shower, where he turned the water on as cold as it would go. He had no clue that Hermione was doing the exact same thing in her bathroom.
Hermione was frustrated, to say the least. Even after an ice-cold shower, she still found herself uncomfortably aroused. Damn Harry and what he did to her without even knowing it. Perhaps if she ignored the fact that she absolutely needed him, the sensations would go away. Yes, that was the ticket: think about something else. However, that was easier said than done, as no matter what she thought about, Harry would come flooding into her mind, causing her even more trouble with some of her more basic urges.
Harry wasn't faring much better. True, the cold shower lasted him long enough to get dressed, but when he saw Hermione's bathrobe on one of the hooks beside his door, he lost control of his thoughts. If he couldn't get himself under control soon, he'd be walking funny for a while, much to the amusement of every guy at Hogwarts. But no, he needed to maintain some sense of control, his reputation, his respectability, his ego demanded it. When he finally was able to will himself into a more presentable state, he picked up Hermione's robe and went to return it to her.
Hermione was standing in her underwear when she heard a knock at the door. Suddenly, she realized that she had left her bathrobe in Harry's room, and correctly concluded that Harry was on the other side of the door, her robe in hand. Her mind was racing. Here she was, barely covered, and Harry, the very thought of whom did unspeakable things to her, was on the other side of the door. She quickly slipped on her school robes and opened the door.
"Forgot your bathrobe," Harry said, avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Come on, let's go get breakfast."
"Can it wait a bit? I'm not exactly fully dressed yet," Hermione stuttered.
With that statement, Harry lost the control he had wrestled from his hormones. Thank Merlin these robes were loose enough so that she wouldn't notice his reaction to this statement.
"Yeah, I think we can," Harry replied. "We can go when you're ready." To be honest, he needed to take care of himself before he could go out into the Gryffindor common room. With that, Hermione closed the door, and Harry ran up to his suite to make himself more presentable.
After fifteen minutes, the two of them were finally fully dressed and ready to face another day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Breakfast that morning had a surreal quality to it, Harry mused. The fact that Hermione was practically sitting on top of him notwithstanding, the fact that the head of magical government in the United Kingdom was now formally allied with the forces of evil began to surface in his mind. For the first time in his life, Harry found Voldemort to be of some use, as it kept him from reacting the way he had earlier this morning. Seeing everyone carrying on with their business as usual just didn't seem right. Perhaps ignorance really was bliss. Being ignorant of the Fudge situation would certainly ease his mind. Maybe he wouldn't tell Ron just yet, as he should be able to enjoy part of his day.
The arrival of the morning mail temporarily took Harry's mind off of thoughts of impending doom. Three owls suddenly made their way towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. After being relieved of their messages, they flew off. Then, one more owl came a crashing halt right there on the table. If the scene hadn't been so pathetic, and the owl had not been Errol, the Weasley family owl, it might have been funny. He too had a letter for Ron, which Ron opened first.
"It's from my mum and dad," Ron announced. "I wonder what they have to say." As he read, the color began to disappear from his face. "They're coming here. All of them. They won't say why though."
Harry then turned his focus to his own letter, which was identical to the letters Ron and Hermione received. When he opened it, he was puzzled, as the message was quite cryptic.
Mr. H. Potter:
Your presence has been requested in the Hogwarts staff room at 3:00 today. You are excused from your classes for today.
"That's odd. I've been told to go to the staff room at noon," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione.
"So have I," said Ron and Hermione at the same time.
"Jinx! You owe me a drink!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Next time we're in Hogsmeade, I'll pay," Ron sighed.
At this pronouncement, Hermione took out a piece of parchment and a quill, and proceeded to write something down.
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"That was a reminder that this git over here owes me a drink," Hermione said, smiling.
At about 11:00, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had made it back to the Gryffindor common room and both Harry and Hermione had lost several games of chess to Ron. As their attention span waned, the length of the day suddenly dawned on them, and they were lounging on the couches lazily. It was Hermione who broke the bored silence.
"Since we're all out of class for the day, what do you want to do?"
"Good question. I'm tired of Ron beating me at chess, and you can't play exploding snap with only three people," Harry noted with a yawn.
"How about we break out the old cloak and take care of that debt I've just acquired?"
"Ron, I seriously doubt that the three of us can fit under there," Harry said.
"That's okay, my parents decided to splurge on me for my birthday and got me a cloak of my own," Hermione replied.
"And why haven't you told either of us about this development, dear?" Ron was stunned by his friend's revelation, but Harry seemed to accept the idea right away. "Don't tell me that you told him and not me, Hermione."
"I didn't actually tell Harry about the cloak. He saw me with it one evening when I was out on rounds. They're actually quite useful for lulling students into a false sense of security, you know," Hermione replied, somewhat exasperated at Ron's attitude.
"And why did you feel that you couldn't trust me with this information?"
"Ron, who has been caught out in the halls at night more than anyone else in the history of Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Well, the last time I was in Filch's office, I managed to get a look at his files. It seems that record is still jointly held by James Potter and Sirius Black," Ron said with a look of amusement on his face.
"Hermione, could you verify this? Surely Hogwarts: A History would say something about this," Harry besought.
"For the first time in his pathetic, miserable life, our dear Ron here actually got something right. However, it isn't in Hogwarts: A History, but in The Best Magical Pranks of All Time, Second Edition by James Potter, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley," Hermione said, in a tone that was something of a cross between cooing and pompously omniscient.
"My father wrote a book with your brothers?"
"Don't be so thick, Harry. He wrote the first edition. As a lot of the information in that book was still quite good and re-used in the second edition, Fred and George felt it best to give him some credit. I've been helping with the research. That's why I've been out at night so much lately."
"Likely story," said Harry and Hermione.
"So, are we going to Hogsmeade or not?" Ron was apparently thinking with his stomach again.
"Okay, just wait here while we get our cloaks," Harry said. And with that, Harry and Hermione went into their suite.
Once Harry and Hermione got to their private common room, Hermione turned towards Harry and looked him straight in the eye for the first time since he had his dream.
"Why didn't you tell him about Fudge?" Hermione implored, and her tone demanded that Harry give her an honest answer.
"I just want him to enjoy part of his day. If I had told him about it right then and there, there would be absolutely no way we could at least try to put the recent turn of events on the back burner for a while and let Dumbledore deal with it for once. He'll find out soon enough, I think. In fact, I'd be willing to bet all of the gold in Gringotts, as well as all the gold in the Muggle world that the notes the three of us got are in some way connected with Dumbledore's plan. And since he knows more than we do when it comes to dealing with these situations, it would probably be best to let him do the planning and organizing."
"That's probably the most thought-out thing I've ever heard you say, Harry."
"Should I take that as an insult?"
"No, you shouldn't. You at least are not embarrassed to give an honest explanation for anything."
"And you don't think that was an honest explanation?"
"Actually, I do. I can always tell when you're lying to me."
"We'd better get the cloaks before Ron suspects us of doing anything illicit," Harry suddenly snapped out after a short silence. If he hadn't broken eye contact with her right then, he would have probably found himself doing things with Hermione that you aren't supposed to do with your best friend.
"Sure took the two of you long enough? What did you do, have a quickie?" Ron asked as though he were a guy trying to extract information about a reluctant friend's sex life.
Harry quickly glanced at Hermione, and their eyes locked once again, but this time the expression was far more playful, though the sparks were still there.
"Oh, crap, Harry, he's found out about us. I knew we should have put that silencing charm on the room before we went too far," Hermione quipped, but Ron was the only person who found the joke funny. Harry found it to be pure torture. Figuring that turnabout was fair play, he decided to play along, hopefully making her as aroused as he was becoming.
"Well, just looking at you makes me forget about everything else, you know, dear," Harry said in a playfully seductive tone. This, apparently was too much for Ron, who hadn't gotten over Hermione, despite the fact that they had broken up two years earlier in a display of verbal sparring not seen since Cassius Clay's pre-match onslaughts.
"Okay, you two. You've had your fun at my expense. Cut it out now, before I have to lock the two of you in separate rooms for the rest of the year."
Hermione was just as thankful as Harry was for Ron's demand that they stop. Harry's little line had more of an effect on her than anyone else would ever know. In fact, she began to dread going outside, as it was snowing out there, and she didn't want her knickers to be covered in ice. If it hadn't been for the fact that Ron was there, she probably would have jumped Harry right then and there.
At this point, Ron came to a startling revelation.
"There are three of us, but we only have two cloaks. Two of us are going to have to share."
"Well, Ron, I don't exactly trust you when it comes to the two of us being that close together. I most certainly don't want you to try to feel me up, and I know how you can't resist temptation. I think it would be best if the two of you shared Harry's cloak and I went solo in mine." Harry couldn't help but agree with Hermione's plan for a myriad of reasons. First, her observation about Ron trying to cop a feel was dead-on, and he really didn't want to put her through that. Then, there was the fact that he most certainly wouldn't be able to make it out of the common room with Hermione right up against him, underneath an invisibility cloak, especially after the exchange that they had just had in regards to Ron's quickie joke.
So, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way through the castle under their cloaks to the statue of the one-eyed witch, which concealed a passage to the back room at Honeydukes. Harry had learned of the passage from a map that Fred and George Weasley had given him back in his third year, and that his father had helped write when he was in school. The three of them had used that passage so many times though, that they didn't need a map to find it. In fact the most difficult part of the trip inside the castle was the fact that they were traveling in two separate, invisible groups, and had no way of finding out where the other group was without revealing their presence. They probably wouldn't have even bothered with the invisibility cloaks if it hadn't been for the fact that they were using a secret passage, and they didn't want to get caught using it. Upon reaching the statue, Hermione spoke the password, which alerted Harry and Ron to her location. It turned out that she was just to their left, and the three of them slipped into the passage without anyone noticing anything was up.
Once in the passage, the cloaks became pointless, as there was nobody who even knew about the passage there at Hogwarts, and even if someone did know about it, he or she would have no reason to suspect that the Head Boy, Head Girl, and their best friend would be using it to make an unscheduled trip to Hogsmeade.
The Three Broomsticks was having the slowest lunch hour Madam Rosmerta had ever seen. In fact, she didn't even question what three Hogwarts students were doing in her establishment on a weekday, when for all purposes, they should have been in class. She was just thankful for the business.
"So, what brings you three into town today?" she asked, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down at the bar.
"We were given the day off today, and Ron here owed Hermione a drink," Harry said.
"That, and we might want to pay a small visit to my brothers," Ron supplied. Fred and George had moved into Hogsmeade and had entered a partnership with Zonko's Joke Shop, along with Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. The nature of the personal relationship between the five was hard to explain. It seemed that they were dating each other simultaneously, and none of them had a problem with it. In fact, this arrangement had developed about two years ago, when the fivesome started up their admittedly confusing relationship. When Fred and George told their mother about their romantic situation, Mrs. Weasley almost put them both under the Cruciatus Curse. Arthur, however, took it quite well. As long as they were all committed to each other (and they were), it was fine with him.
"What'll it be, dears?" Madam Rosmerta asked, though as she already knew the answer, she began to fill up three mugs with butterbeer.
"The usual," Ron, Harry, and Hermione chimed in. Then, to everyone's surprise, Harry added, "And something for yourself as well."
So, they spent the lunch hour sitting at the bar, drinking butterbeer and eating fish and chips for the next hour, talking about nothing, really. While butterbeer isn't all that strong, though, Ron had one too many in too short of a period of time, and he was beginning to get a little tipsy. He completely forgot about the drink he owed Hermione in his altered state, but to be honest, Hermione didn't really care who paid. Before they got up to leave, Harry put down two Galleons on the bar and told Madam Rosmerta to keep the change.
The walk to Zonko's, though, was a bit more interesting. It turned out that Ron was a rather blunt drunk. He wasn't really mean, but the alcohol seemed to make it so that he just blurted out whatever came into his mind.
"So, when are you two finally going to admit that you're in love with each other?" Ron asked, his speech slightly slurred.
"Ron, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked, the embarrassment evident on her face and in her voice.
"Whatever gave you the idea that there was anything going on between us?" Harry blurted out, just as stunned as Hermione was.
"It's obvious, just by looking at the two of you. There's a spark in all four of your eyes that I've only seen once before, and that was when Gin was going on about you, Harry."
"If I was in love with Hermione, what would you do about it?"
"Well, Harry, considering that it's you, I'd probably just throw a hex or two at you and then go on my merry way, not minding about the two of you. Besides, the looks you give each other are beginning to make me nauseous, and I doubt that any hex, curse, or fist could stop it. Now, if it were any other guy, he'd be in St. Mungo's Intensive Care Unit for a few years or so."
"Surely, Ron, you can't be serious. I know how overprotective you are of me, and you've always been a jealous ex-boyfriend who never quite seemed to figure out that the relationship was over."
"Hermione, I'm too drunk to come up with a lie right now. Seriously."
"I'll give you that."
The twins' apartment, which they shared with their lovers, was actually quite tastefully decorated. Hermione silently mused that the décor was probably meant to try to make up for the lack of decency that the flat had when they were there. Perhaps it was her more conservative nature, but she actually felt uncomfortable in that apartment, considering the relationship with the inhabitants. But then again, it might also come from the fact that Fred and George Weasley lived here, and their practical jokes were legends.
"So, what brings you lot out here today?" Angelina asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"We got the day off for some reason, and we decided to pay my brothers a visit," Ron replied, the slur in his speech noticeable.
"You do know that there is a potion for when you want to drink, but don't want to get drunk, Ron?"
"Do you have some here, Angelina?"
"How could anyone live with Gred and Forge Weasley without it?"
"You mean Fred and George," Hermione supplied.
"Isn't that what I said?"
"No, you said Gred and Forge," Harry said, barely holding in the chuckle. He wondered if Angelina had ever heard the twins refer to themselves by those names, as he had back in his first year.
"Oh, well. They're practically interchangeable. Except, of course, when you're having a ménage a trios with them."
"Angelina, my intoxicated mind did not need those mental pictures," Ron exclaimed. Harry and Hermione also expressed similar sentiments.
"Perhaps it would be best not to talk about that part of our relationship, I gather?"
"Right in one," Hermione said. "So, about that potion?'
Angelina went over to the ice chest in the kitchen and pulled out a vial of a clear liquid, and a small cup, into which she poured some of the liquid. When she got back to Ron, she handed him the vial, which he took and emptied in one gulp.
"That should set you straight shortly. However, Fred and George aren't here right now. Fred is currently somewhere in Spain, looking for materials for the next invention, and George is taking care of Zonko's business down in London today. Thankfully George will be back in time for dinner, as I would at least have one man to be with, even if I have to share him with two other women. It really just isn't the same without the guys. Although, Katie is a surprisingly good lay, even without the guys, considering the fact that she is the quiet one."
"Again, too much information, Angelina," Harry said, beginning to get disgusted with his old Quidditch team's carousing.
"I'm actually feeling a bit better now. Tell the twins we stopped by," Ron said, obviously sober again. All three of them were in a bit of a rush to get out of there, as they certainly didn't want to know about the goings on in the flat's two bedrooms.
The three of them then made haste to leave the apartment, as none of them wanted to hear any more tidbits about what its five occupants did after dark.
"I'd say that I'm officially freaked out by your old teammates, Harry," Hermione said, the disapproval evident in her voice.
"At least you're not related to two of them, Hermione," Ron said, matter-of-factly.
"For once, I'm going to agree with you on that sentiment. Merlin's beard! It took extreme acts of perversion to get the two of us to agree on something, Ron. I think that might be a little perverse in itself," Hermione remarked, and Harry shared her astonishment at the fact that she and Ron had agreed on something. "Although, they might be a good source of first-hand information for a little research project I'm doing on my own."
"What, something on how sick and wrong people can be if their names are Fred and George Weasley," Ron offered.
"No, you prat. How thick are you anyway?" Hermione was beginning to get red in the face.
"From what you've said over the last six years, I seem to be thicker than old molasses in January."
"Okay, you two. Do I have to send you to your rooms without any dinner?" Harry shot at his arguing friends.
"Oh, all right," Hermione said. "Look at the time! We need to get back to the castle for that meeting!"
"The meeting! I totally forgot!" Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and began to run, with Ron chasing after him.