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Hermes had taken many forms in his eternal life: hare, tortoise, even the occasional fish. But he found he always preferred the hawk. Perhaps it was the wings, being able to fly—he did love to fly—or maybe it was the ability to see much farther than other animals.
No matter what the reason, it was the form Hermes found himself in now for the past five years. A blink of an eye to an immortal like him, an eternity to a pitiful human. And his current human was as pitiful as they came.
Fred Weasley was in no short supply of amusement, to be sure. It was what attracted Hermes to London, England, in the first place. A bad trait on his part, being so interested in the mundane lives of humans, but Zeus never seemed to mind much—especially when Hermes meddled.
And Hermes truly loved to meddle with his humans.
“Blast this damn thing!” Fred shouted, chucking the current contraption he tinkered with at the wall. It erupted in a puff of bright pink smoke, and Hermes let out a startled caw.
Fred sighed and dropped his head to his hands. “Relax, you overgrown chicken.”
Hermes ruffled his feathers. Fred always picked on him when he was angry. But he knew the red-haired man loved him; it had been the Fates interference that they even met—Hermes had made sure of it. He paid them quite a handsome bundle of Drachma to make it so.
“Find me someone fun. Someone lively, with a grand story and a broken heart.” He had told them.
And just how grand the story of Fred Weasley was. The extroverted twin, a wizard, fated to die until Hermes showed up. He had swooped in just after the blast, rubble falling everywhere. Zeus would have his hide when he returned to Olympus, but Hermes had saved Fred’s life.
The Gods weren’t to stop death—some ancient bargain with Hades. But Hermes had watched him since that moment with the fireworks at that old castle, had seen the things he and his brother could do. Fred Weasley was too talented to die just yet.
If only he were as talented in love.
“Still tinkering away at that thing, I see,” George said as he entered the back room. He grazed his fingers over Hermes’ feathers in a gentle greeting. “It’s been two years, Fred. It’s not going to work.”
“It has to work. She’s counting on me.”
George rolled his eyes and picked up the busted bits of metal. “Interesting how it’s always you she counts on.”
“What does that mean?” Fred asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stood and yanked the device from his brother’s hands.
Hermes piped up in curiosity. Fred was in a peculiar mood, and the twins rarely fought. This could be entertaining.
George put up his hands in surrender. “Nothing Freddie. Nothing at all.”
“Say what’s on your mind. Go on.” Fred spat and chucked the metal into the bin. “I can see you want to say it, so please do. Hermione was with our brother. Ron would be heartbroken. Mum would disown me. What would they all think? Right?”
“Fred, you can’t do this anymore. Look at what it’s doing to you—”
“Well, I don’t give a fuck!” Fred shouted, his normally reigned temper rising to the surface. This was a rare treat indeed. “I don’t care what everyone might think! I don’t care about Ron or Mum or anyone else; I only care about making Hermione happy. And this is the only thing that will. It. Has. To. Work.”
Fred plopped back down onto his stool, pulling his blueprints and scribbling things down. His quill tip snapped against the parchment. The air crackled with tension. George stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at his twin’s hunched back, then left with a silent pat to Hermes’ head.
With a defeated sigh, Fred dropped the broken quill into the bin. It fluttered atop the metal, the sheer white of it stark against the dark silver. Hermes stretched out his wings on his perch, pulling Fred’s attention toward him.
Tears lined his chocolate eyes as he stared at Hermes. “I know, I know. I’ll apologise to Georgie tomorrow. I just...I need to get this right. It’s been so long, and every year she draws more into herself. But George is right; I can’t do this anymore.” Fred sighed again and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment.
A few minutes passed as he wrote, and he slipped it into an envelope and walked toward Hermes with tear-stained cheeks. “I need you to take this to Hermione.”
The letter slipped between Hermes’ awaiting beak, and he dove out to the cool night air from the nearby open window. The air ruffled his feathers as he made his way to Hermione’s home. He’d been to it multiple times over the years, playing messenger between the two. He hadn’t been around when Fred first fell in love with Hermione. No, that ship had sailed long before Hermes, but he certainly witnessed it blossom over the years.
From what Hermes gathered, Fred’s brother Ron had been with Hermione first. They stayed together for a short time after the war but eventually separated. Hermione was obsessed with fixing her parent’s memories, which put a strain on their relationship. Fred tried to help in any way he could, but even he wasn’t brilliant enough to solve it.
Hermes landed on Hermione’s rooftop, quickly transforming back into his human form. Thankfully the blanket of night covered him as he carefully pried open the letter.
Hermione,
I’m sorry. I tried, but my device won’t work. I’m not sure what else to do.
I can’t help you anymore.
I’m so sorry.
Fred
Hermes frowned. Well, that just wouldn’t do. Fred couldn’t toss away his chance with Hermione so easily. No, no, Hermes would have to intervene. It was time he finally fixed Fred’s love life. It would mean an end to his involvement in the lives of the Weasley twins, but Hermes was due back to Olympus soon anyway. At the very least, he could give his human a goodbye gift.
Conjuring a quill and parchment, Hermes wrote a new letter. He sealed it shut and transformed back into his hawk body, coasting downwind to the window below.
Hermione sat at her vanity, braiding her thick curls as she prepared for bed. She saw Hermes before he even had the chance to knock on the window, and the warmth of her bedroom ghosted his feathers as he hopped inside.
“Mercury!” Hermione greeted, using the name bestowed on Hermes by Fred. It certainly wasn’t the worst name Hermes had ever had. “What are you doing here this late?”
Hermes dropped his letter on Hermione’s nightstand, returning to perch at the open window. Hermione raced towards it and ripped it open, scanning over what he’d written.
Her eyes lit up, and a hand flew to her throat. “He’s done it!” A surprised laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, thank Merlin!”
Hermione began to cry, clutching the letter to her chest. Hermes would need to act quickly if this plan were to work, so he left her there without a sound, diving back into the wind.
The flight to Australia would be a long one.
Australia was hot—nearly as hot as the Underworld. Hermes would need the largest drink of wine in his life to quench the thirst the dry air gave him.
It had been easy enough to find Wendell and Monica Wilkins, easier still to get inside their home. What hadn’t been easy was reversing the spell Hermione had placed on them. Brilliant witch. Without Hermes’ help, he was sure they would never have managed it.
It felt good to have a bit of a challenge. It was rare that Hermes struggled, even rarer that it was due to a human. But he was a God; no witch or wizard could best his magic.
Once Hermione’s parent’s memories returned, they raced back to England. Hermes made sure to be around at that reunion, watching from the window as the family finally reunited. He was especially sure to be around when Hermione came to the shop to speak to Fred.
She had collapsed into Fred’s arms the moment she spotted him, weeping into his chest. Fred still looked confused, swapping between bewilderment and soft shushes to quiet her. Hermione clutched to his shirt and finally pulled away after an eternity had passed—and Hermes knew what an eternity felt like.
“Fred, I can’t thank you enough. Truly,” Hermione sniffled, a bright smile pulling her lips. “What you’ve done for me, my parents. Thank you.”
Fred looked practically bamboozled. “What?”
“How did you do it? And how could you not tell me before you left?” Hermione continued, completely ignoring his odd looks. “I should have been there when their memories restored. You should have been there when they came back to England! Were you just going to never say anything to me?”
“Hold on,” Fred grabbed her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
“My parents! The letter Mercury brought me the other night.” Now Hermione was the one to look confused. “You said you found a way to reverse my spell and had already left for Australia! And then the next day, my parents were at my house, but you were nowhere to be found.”
Fred glanced to Hermes, who only preened his feathers, ever the picture of nonchalance.
“Hermione, I didn’t—”
“Wait.” Hermione interrupted, taking Fred’s hand in hers. “Before you go on, there’s something I need to tell you. I couldn’t say anything until my parents were back. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. But now—Fred, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
Fred paused, staring down at the woman he’d pined after for so long. This was it. Hermes knew; he could see it in both their eyes. They’d get together, marry, pop out more ginger-haired Weasley’s, and live their mundane human lives.
Their kiss sealed it. Hermes’ fun was over.
He watched for a moment more as they kissed fiercely, before swooping out the open window. Hermes had seen enough human love-making to last him for his ever-long life; he’d let Fred have his privacy.
A strange sadness settled in his chest the further away from London he got. Fred was a good human, never in short supply of entertainment, and undoubtedly quick-witted. But it was time for Hermes to return. He only hoped the flight back to Olympus wasn’t as long as Australia’s.