A/N: So I decided to write something else that's been bugging me, and I know I'm halfway through Back to the Phoenix but I swear I won't abandon it. I haven't written about a non-canon ship before, or primarily about a relationship yet, so this is new and a bit different for me. Think of this as kind of like a pilot for a new T.V show.

Let me know what you think though. Like it? Hate it? Should I carry on with it? Should I go back to writing about angsty Harry pretending to kill himself and stop trying to be remotely entertaining? Let me know folks. Feedback equals my happiness-ya know? P.S This isn't set in any specific year and Fred will not die.

Disclaimer: Sigh, same as ever: I don't own anything. Were you expecting anything else?

They Come In Pairs

Chapter One

(And perhaps the only one if this is terrible! lol)

It had been exactly one month since Hermione had declared her love for a red-headed twin to a red-headed twin, the only problem was, it had been the wrong twin; and the chances of anyone but George knowing she was head-over-heels for his brother didn't seem to be changing any time soon.

Hermione had been walking to charms when a freckled arm had reached out from behind a tapestry and yanked her into the secret passage behind it. Her heart leapt for a few short moments when she saw the tall red head in the gloom and then halted quite suddenly, a look of annoyed yet familiar disappointment crossing her face. One of these days she was going to get yanked into a dark corner by the right Weasley twin-for once.

"What do you want George?" her voice betrayed nothing but irritation, carefully concealing the extra notch of self-resentment being etched onto her insides. She had to stop expecting things that were never going to happen.

He grinned and winked at her in a now routine way of his, ignoring the rolling of her eyes and pulling her closer to whisper as a group of noisy third-years strolled past their hiding place. A month ago Hermione would have asked George what the hell he thought he was doing, that or would have felt extremely uncomfortable, if he had held his head in such close proximity to hers and started mummering things in her ear. As it was, things had changed between them so much that Hermione didn't even think twice as she pulled him closer to hear better.

Him knowing about her hopeless attachment where Fred was concerned had made them partners in crime. Hermione, a reluctant one despite the fact it had been her who had divulged the makings of her own doom in the first place, and George obviously far too comfortable in the role. She had insisted that George swear he never told anyone about how she felt about Fred, even threatening him with an Unbreakable Vow, though they both knew (or rather, George hoped) that she would never actually resort to it.

He knew that a witch in love was not someone to mess with and was therefore bound by his honour as a joker and hooligan never to let on that he knew the direction of the heartstrings of Hermione Granger.

"I don't suppose there's much point in asking about how things are going with the look-a-like of the most handsome guy in school?" she ground her teeth and let go of the part of his shirt she had been using to pull him closer with a bit more force than was strictly needed. "Non-existent, as usual, he'll never see me as more than his little brother's best friend, just like you."

"I don't know Hermione, you've filled out a bit since then," he grinned deviously at her and she aimed a kick in his direction that he dodged just in time to see the blush on her cheeks. "Shut up, you moron, I'm going to be late for Charms."

"But I haven't even asked you my question yet! Come on Hermione…" it was desperately hard to deny someone who had the same face as the person she was in love with, but she persevered.

"I don't have time for this," she snapped, but he could see her crumbling.

"I even ditched my-in your foolish opinion-better half to be here. I had to get him in a conversation with Lee before I could even consider slipping off."

Considering it was almost impossible to separate the twins, Hermione was impressed. "Alright, what is it?"

He grinned again roguishly, picked her up in one quick swirl and set her back down again. "Knew you couldn't resist me."

She ignored this, crossed her arms and waited, "You have to tell me what time Malfoy's on prefect duty, his holiness your crush and I are planning something special for the ferret."

She frowned at him, "That's it?"

"That's it?" George looked deeply offended "You're only being offered the privilege to assist in an infamously genius, Weasley twin prank!"

She let a small smile escape her lips at his mortification and relented, "Two until four on the second and third floors."

George beamed, looked like he was about to twirl Hermione once more, and watched as she made a swift exit, admiring the view as she hurried off to charms. Hey, he hadn't been lying when he'd said she'd filled out, and in all the right places too. Just because she was head-over-heels for his twin didn't mean he wasn't a man. He shook his head, when Fred stopped arsing about and started realising he really was very lucky to have someone like Hermione after him was the day George stopped ogling a cute butt.

Oh, and what a nice view it was.

Unsurprisingly, Flitwick was not exactly fuming when his favourite student turned up a couple of minutes late. Ron scowled as she sat down "If that had been anyone else they'd be stuck with detentions right now!" he muttered under his breath.

Hermione flicked her hair and rolled her eyes, "Having an immaculate record has its uses, maybe if you had handed your homework in on time a little more often you wouldn't be complaining. He huffed and wriggled down into his chair further, a clear sign that not handing his homework in on time was something on his mind at the moment.

Harry was brooding, something else that was unsurprising. Harry's mood swings were worse than Hermione with P.M.S (which was, she could admit herself, saying something) one minute he was happy as pie the next-well, hormonally-charged adolescent rage was becoming a frequent visitor to the Golden Trio's time together. Ofcourse, she didn't blame him, Harry always had a lot on his plate: girls, the press, a deranged and supremely powerful dark wizard after his skin. Sometimes though she wished he would get over his 'time of the month' and deal with it like the rest of the female race. No such luck.

She leaned over to his desk, "Hey, Harry, what's wrong?"

He snapped out of his brooding exterior (which Ginny was always telling Hermione was so unbelievably cute) to realise that his other best friend had entered the room. "Oh, hi 'Mione, where've you been? Not like you to be late."

She stiffened, "I forgot my books, had to go back for them-but answer my question, what's up?"

"Hmmm," he shrugged and gave her a wane grin, "You know, same old stuff." She nodded sympathetically (hey, just because she found him annoying didn't mean she couldn't comfort her irritating friend) and leant across to put her hand on his.

A malevolent whisper hit their backs, arriving in the voice of-whom else?- the bastardly bouncing ferret boy, the terror of all first years (and any other younger years now you come to mention it), the drooling object of Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin Pig rather than prince: Draco Malfoy.

"Hey, Potty, please get the monstrosity that is that-what do you call her-a girl? Well can you remove her ugly mug from my eye-line before I am forced to vomit."

Always the hero Harry's knuckles tightened beneath Hermione's hand, ready to defend the damsel in distress' honour to the death. Said Damsel rolled her eyes and leant back in her chair, extricating her hand from Harry's (which was now actually a fist) with a mummer that he wasn't worth it. Harry consoled himself with a glare in the smirking blonde's direction before returning to brooding, this time probably about his unhealthy obsession with injuring Malfoy.

Checking no-one was looking, especially not Ron or Harry, Hermione twisted in her seat and smirked straight back at Malfoy, raising her middle finger behind her chair nice and visibly before mouthing clearly and slowly two words. But we must think of the children folks, so lets just say the first word began with an F and the second was simply: You.

The smile disappeared off Draco's pale, aristocratic features as Hermione turned back to the front of the room. Ofcourse, this kind of exchange from Hermione was no news to Malfoy, he knew she had no reservations about using any of the more…colourful language in her dictionary in his presence, but Ron and Harry were a different matter. The poor boys though she was some kind of saint, innocent as the day she was born and oblivious to any kind of foul play they were surrounded by. It would worry them too much if they knew she was capable of such things, so she left them in their ignorance and consequently, in their bliss. Besides, she was always telling Ron off for his language anyway.

As for Malfoy's actual comment, well, she couldn't care less, and if he was really so disgusted by her, then why did he keep staring at her breasts?

Flitwick was talking about something Hermione had already read extensively about and she allowed her mind to wander. Her encounter with George had left her thinking about when she had declared her love. For Fred, to George, that is. She gazed out the window, taping her quill absentmindedly and remembering…

The Gryffindor common room was noticeably absent of people and, consequently, noise. The only students left enjoying the lights of the slowly dying fire was that of a brown, not-quite-so-bushy-as-it-used-to-be haired girl and a red-headed boy. The girl was frowning down at some Arithmancy homework, not really taking it in. The boy rustled the forms for some joke products, filling out some information thoughtfully.

All that could be heard was the scratching of quills.

Harry and Ron had given up on their homework and retreated to their dormitory, and after spending the evening testing their products on the younger years, earning a reprimanding from Hermione, eventually Fred had followed the footsteps of the rest of the house and gone to bed, leaving George to finish up.

The silence pressed in on Hermione, her thoughts straying into much more complicated territory than Arithmancy. It was ridiculous really, she couldn't concentrate on school work, she had those incessant dreams at night, in the day all she did was day-dream all because of…him.

The room was suddenly devoid of any noise at all. No quill scratching, no paper rustling. George was watching the form of Hermione Granger sitting poker straight in her chair, tense and unmoving. "Hermione…err…are you all right?"

She turned, dropping her quill on her parchment and looking at him with a pained expression.

"I can't take it anymore, George."

What are you doing? Her mind screamed. He's his BROTHER-he'll tell him!

George stared at her "P-pardon?"

Tell Ginny, or Harry-even lavender-ANYONE but him!

"I have to tell someone."

No! You stupid girl!



"I'm in love with your brother."