Chapter Text
The chicken was in the oven, the bread was toasted, and the salad was ready to be tossed. All that Fred was waiting on was for his girlfriend to come home. He heard the door to the flat unlock, open, and shut again.
“Hey Hermione,” Fred called out. “How was work?” Hermione, looking annoyed and weary, dropped her bag and coat on to the floor. A very un-Hermione thing to do. That was all Fred needed to know about how well her day went. “Got it. Would you like your red wine in a glass or shall I just put a straw directly into the bottle?” he asked, holding up the bottle. When the silence stretched out longer than anticipated, Fred looked up in alarm.
“Hermione?” he prodded.
“How serious are you about the straw?” she deadpanned. Fred chuckled.
“I put one of my jumpers in your drawer,” Fred offered, indicating the closed door to his bedroom. Hermione’s eyes lit up. She loved wearing Fred’s jumpers almost as much as Fred loved seeing her in them. In a flash, Hermione disappeared into the room to change. Meanwhile, Fred went to work. He waved his wand and the salad began tossing itself in the bowl. Then he picked up Hermione’s coat and bag from the floor and hung them both up. When Hermione finally emerged from the bedroom wearing Fred’s jumper and a pair of pyjama bottoms, Fred had dressed two plates with dinner and salad, poured two hefty glasses of wine, and set up a pile of blankets for them to cocoon into on the couch. After dinner and another glass of wine later, Hermione was leaning heavily into Fred, her arms around his middle. His left arm was around her shoulders, fingers running through her hair. Music played softly over the wireless.
“Where’s George?” Hermione asked after she had been silent so long, Fred was convinced she’d fallen asleep.
“At Angelina’s,” Fred answered. “They’ve actually been thinking about looking for a flat together.” Hermione gave a little hum in response. “Should we look for a flat? The two of us, I mean.”
Hermione shook her head. “We’ve only been dating five months. It’s too soon to think about moving in together.”
“Five months, one week, and five days,” Fred corrected.
Hermione turned her head to look up at him. “You keep track that closely?”
“Of course!” Fred tapped his temple. “I have an excellent memory, you know.” Hermione looked skeptical.
“And where, pray tell,” Hermione said as she sat up, “was this excellent memory when I asked you to wash the towels? Defrost the chicken? Stop by my flat on your day off and refill Crookshank’s water bowl?”
Fred looked affronted. Crossing his arms, he said “Well, obviously, you’ve been leeching it off of me like a memory-sucking dementor. We should repurpose the old DA coins for just the two of us. Then we can remind each other of things. ‘Fred, please pick up some sugar,’ or ‘Hermione, can I borrow that book.’ Hell, if you wanted to send a message that said ‘Hey Fred, you arse looked fantastic in the shower this morning,’ that’d be a wonderful use of the coins.” Hermione swatted half-heartedly at Fred’s chest.
“Incorrigible,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely incorrigible.” She leaned in and kissed her boyfriend. “But it’s really sweet that you remember that.”
“Yes, I know,” Fred bragged slinging an arm around her again. Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Not to put a dampener on your good mood, but I think it’s about time we told mum that we’re dating.” Hermione stiffened underneath him. “It has been five months, one week, five days, and…” Fred began to raise up his arm to look at his wristwatch. Hermione pulled at his arm so both were wrapped around her.
“Your mother hates me,” Hermione mumbled into Fred’s chest. “Telling her we’re dating is only going to make her hate me more.”
“Or, and I know this is a completely mental idea, she might be happy that her favourite and best looking child is in a happy, healthy relationship with the beautiful and intelligent Hermione Granger,” Fred countered. Hermione scoffed.
“The same Hermione Granger who broke her baby son’s heart,” she reminded Fred. “It doesn’t matter that we only dated six weeks and we mutually ended things almost five years ago now. I still toyed with Ron’s feelings in her eyes.”
Fred shrugged. “Yeah, but, four of those weeks were attending funerals,” he reminded her.
Hermione nodded. “And the last two were genuinely attempting a few awkward dates before we decided that we were better as friends. Do you know what she’s sent me for Christmas for the past couple of years?” Hermione sat up and pushed away so she could look Fred directly in the eyes. “Year one: knitted potholders. Potholders with big enough holes in them that I would have gotten burnt if I had tried to use them. Year two: mittens that had mostly fallen apart by the time they had gotten to me. Year three: a pair of socks.”
“What was wrong with the socks?”
“Nothing. Except I would have needed to be turned into a baby to fit into them. And grown a couple of extra toes. Year four: I got potholders again. That might have had something to do with Ron’s girlfriend at the time, now that I think of it.”
Fred shuddered. “Oh, yeah, she was a nightmare.”
“So just imagine her reaction if we told her we were seeing each other,” Hermione groaned. She buried her face into a pillow. Fred began to card his fingers through her hair again.
“Mothers, as I understand it, are very protective of their children,” Fred told her, “and I know my mum has been judging you too harshly for your serious lapse in judgment five years ago. Ouch!” he complained when Hermione pinched his side. “But I have no plans on abandoning this relationship any time soon. I’m sorry to say that you are absolutely stuck with me. No, seriously, I performed a nonverbal sticking charm while you were distracted.” He was rewarded with a snort from Hermione. “So mum’s just going to have to get used to having you around at family dinners, holidays, birthday parties, et cetera and all that. But she can’t get used to it unless we get around to telling her.”
Hermione took several big, deep breaths. Fred felt some of the tension slowly leave her body. “Fine,” she groaned. “But I want a little more time to keep this to ourselves before we tell your mum.”
“Of course,” Fred agreed instantly. “How much more time?”
“A hundred years.”
“Hermione.”
“What? A century seems reasonable to me.”
“We’re telling her and dad at mine and George’s birthday dinner next weekend,” Fred said firmly. “The whole family will be there and they can draw fire away from us if necessary.”
“Fine,” she agreed begrudgingly. “But if she gets to be too much, we’re leaving.”
Molly Weasley looked like she had sucked a moldy lemon before she recovered and plastered on a tight smile. “Hermione! You’re…here.” Arthur Weasley had the decency to look apologetic for his wife’s less-than-enthusiastic greeting.
Almost every Weasley was in on the secret that Fred and Hermione were dating. George (and by default Angelina) had known nearly right from the start. Ginny and Harry knew not long after. Hermione had told Ron over a coffee one afternoon about a month into hers and Fred’s relationship. She was worried that it would be awkward, Ron would be upset, and their friendship would be ruined forever.
“I’m dating your brother,” Hermione had finally blurted out.
Ron took a sip of his coffee before asking, deadpan “Which one?”
The talk went pretty smoothly after that.
Bill found out when he walked into the stock room at the shop and Hermione and Fred hastily sprang apart. They were unsuccessful in hiding their flushed faces, swollen lips, and mussed clothes. George (who had prompted Bill to go into the back for his own amusement) couldn’t keep the grin off his face for a week. So of course, Fleur knew about it, too. How could she not when Bill had been groaning “My eyes! My eyes!” as he burst through the door of Shell Cottage?
Percy had, to his chagrin, walked into a pub with his date when Hermione and Fred were sharing some fish and chips and playing footsie under the table.
But all of them knew not to tell Molly and Arthur.
Fred’s smile grew a little tight. “Yes, mum, I said I was bringing her.” Mrs. Weasley made a little “hm” noise before disappearing into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley stepped forward and clapped a hand to Hermione’s shoulder.
“It’s good to see you again, Hermione,” he said sincerely. “Come on, I’ll pour you a drink! We don’t see nearly enough of each other at the Ministry. How’s…” He steered Hermione off to get her a drink. Fred sank down on to the couch next to George, absentmindedly watching Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Fleur playing a card game on the floor. Victoire was coloring with Percy in the corner and Dominique was snoozing on Bill’s chest. It was a peaceful scene. Normally, Fred would be all for disrupting a peaceful scene and plunging it into chaos. But mum had been unfair toward Hermione and he really wanted tonight to go well.
“Are you sure about telling mum?” George asked. “It’s not like she’ll believe you anyway.”
Fred had thought about that possibility already. “She’d be less likely to believe me if I told her on Tuesday-our actual birthday-instead of today.”
Angelina, on the other side of George, shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just know that there is some betting going on.”
There was another awkward moment when Mrs. Weasley announced dinner ready and tried to direct Hermione to sit next to Percy-away from Fred.
“She already said she wanted to sit next to me, mum,” Fred insisted. After they sat down at last, Hermione squeezed his hand underneath the table.
All was going perfectly fine until Mrs. Weasley asked Percy if he knew any single women in his department to set up Fred with.
“That won’t be necessary, mum,” Fred interrupted.
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “Fred you’re twenty-five. Everyone else here is in a committed, adult relationship. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, too.”
Ron frowned. “Ahm no’,” he said around his mouth full of food.
Mrs. Weasley smiled at her youngest son. “Well, dear, you’re only twenty-three. You have time,” she assured him. Percy stared stonily down at his plate. It seemed his mother had not gotten the memo about his recent breakup.
Fred linked his fingers through Hermione’s underneath the table and rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. He felt some of the tension leave Hermione. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Surely someone here has to know somebody who would be good for Fred,” Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly. Ginny coughed suspiciously and kept her mouth hidden behind her napkin.
“I don’ think my girlfriend would like it very much if I went out on a date with someone else,” Fred said nonchalantly. A hush fell over the table. Eyes bounced back and forth between Fred to Mrs. Weasley to Mr. Weasley and then back to Fred again. He indicated Hermione. “Meet my girlfriend. You all know Hermione, yeah?”
The awkward silence stretched out. “That is brand new information!” Harry exclaimed in an effort to break the tension. Fred and George rolled their eyes at each other. This man was an Auror. An Auror.
Everyone leaned forward, holding their breath, waiting to see the reaction of both Weasley parents. Breaking the awkward tension, Mr. Weasley was the first to speak up.
“Are you really?” he exclaimed. Well, at least he sounded happy about it. “Oh, I knew something was going on with you, Fred. I didn’t know what, but you seemed different. I thought it might’ve been a woman. Of course I couldn’t be sure it was a woman. With how long you’d gone without mentioning anyone, I didn’t want to assume anything…” George’s snicker cut off into a grunt when Fred elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, that is fantastic! How long has this been going on?”
“Five months,” Fred replied. He brought up his and Hermione’s joined hands on to the table. This felt nice. This was going well so far. “We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while, but with almost everyone else at this table knowing, we thought it was past time to tell you.”
Mr. Weasley was nearly vibrating with excitement. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “Oh, this is wonderful! I always thought you two balanced each other out. This is quite a surprise, isn’t it?”
The whole table jumped when Mrs. Weasley slammed her silverware down on the table. Dominique jerked in Bill’s arms at the noise. “Mum!” Ron and Percy hissed in a low voice.
“Honestly, Fred. I’m not going to fall for any of your tricks on today of all days. The only surprise here is that you somehow manipulated Hermione into going along with your shenanigans.” She turned to Hermione and shook her head sadly. “I expected better of you, Hermione. Playing a trick like this at your age? Honestly.”
Dinner was rather awkward after that.
Angelina, George, Ginny, Harry, and Ron all won the bet.
“Playing a trick like this at my age?” Hermione echoed later that night as she stared up at Fred’s bedroom ceiling. “She makes it sound like I’m geriatric. I’m only twenty-three!”
“And a half!” Fred mumbled around his toothbrush from the bathroom. Hermione turned to glare at the open door.
“You know, when you keep track of how long we’ve been dating, it’s rather endearing. But if you start keeping exact track of my age when you’re a quarter of a century old-”
She heard Fred finish rinsing his mouth out before he padded out of the bathroom. “Sorry.” He crawled underneath the covers and turned on his side to face Hermione. “I’ll fix this, okay? I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her.
“I don’t know how,” Hermione muttered, still staring at the ceiling. “She thinks our relationship is a joke.”
“Five months and two weeks is quite a long commitment to a joke. Even for two people such as ourselves with unwavering determination and amazing stamina.” Hermione didn’t have to look to see the suggestive, mischievous look in Fred’s eyes.
“Five months, two weeks, and one day,” Hermione corrected, smiling in spite of herself. “It’s after midnight.”
“Is it really?” Fred leaned over her to get a look at the clock. “No wonder I’m knackered!”
“The alcohol might have helped with that some, you old man.” Hermione turned and buried her face in Fred’s chest, snaking an arm around his middle. “Love you,” she mumbled.
Fred held her a little tighter. For his own comfort as well as hers. “I love you, too.” Hermione was asleep before Fred managed to turn off the bedside lamp.