a/n: I wrote this when I was 17 in 2009 and posted it in the books_and_freckles community on livejournal under the penname creationinwords. I left the fandom and completely forgot my lj and this story. I've tweaked a line or two or three, because I felt the need to. You can still find the original version at the community. I do not own Harry Potter. Will you be kind and leave me a review?

There were few people who were able to tell the Weasley Twins apart. But even the few who could made mistakes from time to time, even their mother.

Except Hermione Granger. No matter what Fred or George did, she could always tell them apart, even if they covered her eyes. Despite being "identical to the last freckle", which they were, it was the little things that sold them out.

She learned that Fred was the one who stirred the cauldron more often, so his hands were just a bit rougher than George's. From her stay over the years at the Burrow, she figured out Fred was the one who convinced his twin on an idea if it hadn't been already, dragging George along with him; like playing Quidditch shirtless in their backyard.

Even though both of them enjoyed the outdoors, it was George who was stubborn about taking care of his skin with the aid of a sunblock. His freckles were quickly becoming more of a light brown and his lips were more of a deep red – plumper, fuller.

But that's where the public differences ended and the more personal -the more intimate- ones begun.

Behind closed doors, Hermione knew the Weasley Twins better than anybody could ever dream about. She knew all their little quirks. She knew that George was only slightly ticklish behind his left kneecap but was completely spastic underneath his right armpit.

Where George was ticklish, Fred was not. However, she discovered late one night, that if you touched him just there on the left side of his hip, Fred would burst into a fit of giggles. When using her nails his giggles would turn into throaty moans that echoed through his body and into hers, and suddenly the joke was on her.

She knew that one of George's favorite things in the world was to have her nails leave welts on his back in the final throes. Fred loved to have her nails on his back and his stomach - preferably his stomach. He also begs for her to wear high heels at times just so he can feel them dig into his backside later on. She swears George is starting to develop the same fetish. When on her hands and knees, Fred grabs a fistful of hair and yanks – but George threads his fingers through her hair and grips.

She knew blowing air on the back of their necks got them flushed.

She'd figured out the shop they owned took more of a toll on them then they let on. Fred loved a good back rub, complete with message oils of their own making, after work. She knew George's kind of relaxing also included a backrub, but also a nice, relaxing bath with her. She knew they couldn't wait to come home to her.

When they lay together at night, she could focus on their smell. While the Weasley Twins had a permanent aura of gunpowder about them, Fred smelled more of a potion brewer while George smelled like whatever he cooked for dinner that day.

But there was something that everyone knew about them.

They loved her.