Summary: Fourth year, Hermione Granger corners the twins with the ultimate question about Ron. Was your brother dropped on his head as a child? Possibly repeatedly?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger or any of the other characters created by the lovely J.K. Rowling, or she-who-lost-the-plot for ending the series with Ron and Hermione paired together. That's just a verbally abusive relationship waiting to happen, IMO.

A/N: Just a short one, since I hate these things myself when reading fanfic. This fic is set during The Goblet of Fire prior to the first task when Harry and Ron aren't speaking.

Hermione Granger stomped into the Gryffindor common room, with a virtual thunder cloud hanging over her head.

Fred Weasley leaned over to his twin, George, and whispered, "Red alert! Granger is incoming, and it looks like an eight out of ten on the your-brother-is-the-biggest-git-in-the-world-o-meter."

George winced.

"She was fine a half hour ago at breakfast. What could our little brother have managed to say this time to piss her off so badly in the three minutes he was able to speak without food in his mouth?"

"This is Ronnikins we're talking about, oh twin of mine. Lest you forget, he doesn't limit himself to speech with an empty mouth. Likely he not only insulted Harry, Hermione herself, her muggle background, or some other personal belief of hers, but also topped it off by spewing half a plate of food on her while doing so."

"Too true, Fred. Too true. I don't know how I could have forgotten."

Before either brother could say anything further their space was invaded by Hermione dropping into the squishy armchair across from them with a very loud huff. For a full minute no one spoke, just stared across the small table between them like some kind of bad spaghetti western standoff.

"Your brother is going to drive me to spare," Hermione finally growled.

"What did our youngest…"

"…and hungriest brother do…"

"…this time," George finished their question.

Hermione looked down at her school robe, and flicked several bits of half chewed food from the dark material before glancing back at the twins with a raised eyebrow.

"And that's just for starters. I thought I got it all off before I left the Great Hall. Apparently I missed some. He's the most insensitive, condescending, lazy, insufferable git I've ever had the displeasure to meet," her voice rose to a screech, leaving those in the common room wincing and edging away from their immediate vicinity.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

"Fred, George, I have a serious question for you. No jokes, no gags, no witty comebacks or plays on words. Just, please, answer me truthfully," Hermione instructed in a low, slow tone.

Both boys gulped. That was the Danger Granger voice, the one that had students scattering in all directions when it was heard. If made prefect next year, she would be utterly terrifying. They nodded their reluctant agreement.

"Was Ronald dropped on his head as a child? Possibly repeatedly?"

The twins glanced at each other and held a silent conversation that consisted of head tilts, twitched lips, raised eyebrows, and frowns as well. Finally both sighed and turned to face the music, or rather Hermione Granger in a bad mood.

George leaned forward and whispered, "You must never to tell our mum or dad what is about to be revealed."

Hermione blinked once, twice, and a third time. She didn't think she'd ever seen Fred and George Weasley act so seriously before, but now she was intrigued. She agreed, albeit hesitantly.

"Now 'fess up," Hermione demanded.

Fred looked around and put up a quick privacy charm.

"You have to understand, we were just shy of four at the time," he murmured.

George nodded his agreement.

"Yeah. Just little tykes ourselves, you see?"

"Didn't know any better, truthfully," Fred tried to explain.

Hermione's piercing eyes narrowed and seemed to place a sticking charm between the two and their chairs.

"What didn't you know not to do?"

George squirmed uncomfortably, and mumbled something under his breath.

"I didn't hear that. Please repeat it," Hermione ordered as she sat straighter in her seat.

Twin one, aka George, cast a pleading look at his less handsome brother, silently begging him to take a hit for the team.

Twin two, aka Fred, rolled his eyes as his considerably uglier brother, and decided to suck it up. His spine straightened, and he turned to Hermione, ready to deal with the consequences.

"Yes, we repeatedly dropped him on his head as a child. Yes, we did it on purpose, but we didn't mean to do any harm. His head made the most fascinating thudding sound when it connected with the floor, and he would even laugh! But we only did it when no one else was around. Mum and Dad don't know. Please don't say anything, Hermione!"

Fred literally threw himself upon the mercy of the court, well at least their judge and jury. If she told, his mum would be their executioner. He fell forward from his chair to his knees, hands clasped before him in a pleading gesture as he shuffled around the table to kneel at her side. George took the hint and prostrated himself to the Gryffindor princess in an identical fashion.

"We will be your faithful and humble servants if you deem us worthy of keeping our secret, oh wise one!"

"Please, Mistress Hermione, say you forgive us for our youthful transgressions," George wailed.

Hermione, meanwhile, sat shocked by their confession. Ron was repeatedly dropped on his head as a child, and apparently he enjoyed it. It all made so much sense now. Early life cranial trauma could lead to brain damage which only showed later in life, especially when Ron must have only been around one or two, just a toddler.

Her attention returned to the two redheads kneeling at her feet, begging and wheedling while being overly dramatic at the same time. In other words, they were being your typical Gred and Forge. Honestly! One day she would finally be able to tell them apart, on her personal holy bible of Hogwarts: A History, this she swore.

Exasperated and amused, she schooled her features into that of a cool imperial snootiness she'd seen on so many of her former classmates from muggle primary school.

"Rise, my loyal subjects, and fear not. Your secret is safe with me," she declared in an especially high class tone before losing it, and breaking into giggles.

"I can't believe you actually did drop him on his head! Honestly! No wonder he's got the maturity of a five year old and the attention span of a gnat."

George removed the privacy charm, but before either boy could rise from their places, the portrait swung open and Ronald Weasley came through the hole. He stopped just inside at the entrance to look at the odd sight before him.

"Oi! What are you doing to Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes. Just minutes before they had been in a blazing row in the Great Hall, and now he decides to defend her against some unfounded threat? Boys!

"Ron, I heard there's a pickup quidditch match going on down at the pitch. It's supposed to start in about five minutes. If you hurry you might just make it," she lied, terribly she might add, while ignoring the snickers of the still kneeling twins.

"A pick up match! Why didn't you say so?"

He was out of the common room like a rocket, and she wondered just how much brain damage he actually suffered. Everyone knew the quidditch pitch was closed this year due to something with the tournament. Hermione vowed to have more patience with the git. It was all you could do when dealing with feeble minded people, after all. At least now she understood the truth thanks to the twins' confession.