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Fred Weasley first realised he was in love with Hermione Granger thanks to some blueberry scones. He’d strolled into The Burrow’s kitchen after his first jaunt on a broomstick since the final battle at Hogwarts had left him needing several months of rest and rehabilitation, thanks to a heavy wall exploding and nearly crushing him, had it not been for Percy’s lightning fast reflex in throwing a shielding charm over him, exhausted and starving. He caught sight of his mum and Hermione stood side by side in front of the small kitchen counter, both with their hands deep in mixing bowls, chatting about Hermione’s impending return to Hogwarts to complete her final year of schooling. Something about the scene left Fred feeling like he’d taken a hard bludger to the head, as if he was getting a partial snapshot of his future, a future where he’d stroll in from work and be greeted with the sight of the love of his life elbows deep in a project of some sort, be it dinner or something more work related. And it was there and then, in that cramped kitchen that Fred knew himself to be completely, well and truly in love.
He’d known those feelings were hovering somewhere inside of him, they had been ever since he’d shared an almost perfect dance with Hermione at his brother and sister’s wedding the previous year. It was then he’d known that his silly schoolboy crush was slowly but surely developing into something more. He’d marvelled in the way she’d fit in his arms, nestled into the crooks of his body like she was his missing puzzle piece. He’d almost kissed her there and then, in front of all their friends and family but had stopped himself. It wouldn’t have been their first kiss, that honour had occurred just after the Yule Ball, when Fred had been enraged at his younger brother’s behaviour and took it upon himself to show Hermione that not all Weasley men were hopeless, and that some of them had noticed she was a girl long before she’d arrived in the Great Hall on the arm of Viktor Krum in her stunning periwinkle dress robes. That kiss soon led to more, stolen moments taken in quieter parts of the castle, something only made easier when Hermione had been made prefect and knew exactly which classrooms were empty, perfect for some rather fantastic snogging sessions. They hadn’t kept it a secret on purpose, certainly nothing to do with being ashamed of the other, but mainly because they enjoyed having something that only they knew about. Something that would have changed had he kissed her on that dance floor in the moments before Kingsley’s Patronus arrived.
“Ah, Fred, dear. Have a seat! Let me get you some tea,” Fred complied with his mum’s fussing silently, slumping into the nearest dining chair in a daze. “Are you alright, dear? You look unwell. I told you it was too early to be out on a broom again, you need more rest.”
“I’m fine, mum,” Fred mumbled, placing his large hand over her smaller one and squeezing lightly. “It felt good to be out there again. Besides, how do you know I’m not George?”
“Because, luckily for you, you still have both your ears attached to the sides of your head,” Hermione snorted from her position near the oven. Fred couldn’t see what she’d made but he hoped he’d be able to eat it soon. He was starving. His eyes tracked her movements as she accepted her own cup of tea from his mum, murmuring her thanks before gracefully sinking into a seat opposite him. “It was nice to see you out there again, Fred. Almost felt like we were back to normal.”
“Is that you giving me permission to start pranking you again, Granger?” Fred couldn’t help the quip that escaped his lips, knowing his mouth was tilting into a smirk as he caught the rosy blush that was flooding her cheeks at his words. He couldn’t help throwing a wink toward her too, delighting in how the rosy hue deepened to an almost crimson colour.
“Absolutely not. I’m not beneath asking your sister to Bat Bogey Hex you either,” she threatened, taking a sip of her tea, following it with a blissful sigh. Her brown eyes caught his with a small smile on her lips. Merlin, he thought. She was beautiful. She’d always been beautiful, granted, but Fred was sure she’d never been more beautiful than she was in that exact moment. He opened his mouth to tell her so, before suddenly deciding against it. Declarations like those were best made in private, away from the bustling of your mum. He snapped his jaw shut, feeling his cheeks flush as Hermione watched him, quirking an eyebrow in question.
“So, back to Hogwarts for our Golden Girl then?”
“Don’t call me that.”
-
Lunch at The Burrow was a fairly casual affair in comparison to the bustling dinners that Fred shared with his family. His mum usually popped various plates of food on the rickety dining table that seemed to groan every time a new plate was placed onto it, telling people to help themselves to whatever they wanted. This day was no different, Fred discovered as he hopped down the creaky stairs, back toward his abandoned chair. Like most days, Fred was the first one to the table, meaning he got first pick at everything in front of him. He’d just polished off his first round of sandwiches and was contemplating what to choose next when the front door opened, revealing Ginny and Hermione, deep in conversation, joining him at the table.
He didn’t feel the need to join their conversation, not feeling the need to be the centre of attention all the time, the way that he did during his Hogwarts days. He chalked the new feeling up to having a near-death experience. He could still be loud and annoying, he knew, but he tried to tone down his carefree attitude a little. No-one was interested in a joker when they were trying to rebuild their lives after a war that nearly destroyed the majority of the British magical community. He reached for a scone, frowning a little at their slightly rustic appearance. They didn’t look like the normal ones his mum made, especially not with the little purple splodges dotted throughout them. Still, Fred was never one to turn down a scone, so took a larger than necessary bite and almost released a moan of pure pleasure as the blueberries burst onto his tongue.
“Merlin, these are incredible. Have a scone, ladies. You won’t be disappointed.”
“You like them?” Hermione squeaked.
“Like them? Merlin, Hermione, they’re bloody incredible. Honestly, if mum hadn’t of made these, I’d be proposing marriage to whoever had.” Fred frowned when Ginny burst out laughing at his words, confused at her giggles and why Hermione now resembled a tomato.
“Fred, mum didn’t make those! They’re Hermione’s blueberry scones!” Ginny exclaimed between fits of laughter. Fred stopped chewing instantly as he replayed his last sentence over and over in his mind. Merlin’s saggy ball sack, he’d inadvertently just proposed to Hermione, the same Hermione he’d only just realised he was in love with. He could feel the heat invade his face and neck, made worse by Ginny’s incessant laughter and abruptly stood, levitating his plate to the sink with a silent flick of his wrist.
“Lovely as this was, I must dash. Need to, er, go over some of the paperwork George sent me this morning.”
Ginny’s chortles seemed to follow Fred as he clambered up the staircase to the room he used to share with his twin, shutting the door behind him and bashing his head against the wood.
-
Avoidance wasn’t something Fred usually employed, but he needed time to think, away from the amused look of his sister, the fussing hands of his mother and the curious glances he swore Hermione kept sending to him over the dinner table. He’d spent the majority of the meal joining George in explaining their plans for expansion into Hogsmeade after the summer was over. He was thankful for the discussion and for the never-ending questions his parents kept firing his and George’s way. It didn’t allow for anyone else to speak, didn’t give his sister chance to further embarrass Hermione by bringing up her blueberry scones once more. Once the meal was over and George had hopped into the floo, heading back to their flat in Diagon Alley, Fred slipped outside, hoping for a quiet few minutes away from everyone. He strolled toward the edge of their garden, flinging a stray garden gnome that had been missed earlier in the week and was determined to break into his dad’s tinkering shed. He came to a stop at the edge of the wards that enclosed the property and sank onto the grass, leaning back on his hands as he took a deep breath.
“You’ve nearly put your hand in owl poo,” a quiet voice, one that he knew too well, broke the silence that surrounded Fred. He glanced down and discovered that Hermione was right, not that he was surprised. She quickly vanished the offending mess before taking a seat next to him, close but not close enough.
“I missed you. I know we haven’t had much time to talk together but I missed you. Hearing your voice on Potterwatch was the only thing that kept me sane. And then nearly losing you in the war,” he heard Hermione take in a deep breath at the same time he swallowed down the lump in his throat. He knew how she felt. Being apart from her was almost as bad as being apart from his twin. He couldn’t imagine a life without either of them in it. “I know it’s selfish but I don’t think I’d have coped, Fred. I know we used to just mess around at Hogwarts, but silly as it was, it meant the world to me. You mean the world to me.”
Blood seemed to be rushing round Fred’s ears as his heart tried desperately to launch itself out of his chest. He reached over, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, the gesture painfully familiar after performing it multiple times. He cupped his hand to her cheek, gently stroking his thumb over a rogue tear that had managed to escape. He could smell the subtle hints of the floral perfume he knew she always wore, the same perfume that was able to make him weak at the knees in all the best kinds of ways.
“You mean the world to me too, Hermione. I should have told you sooner, but I honestly didn’t realise until earlier today, when I saw you in the kitchen with mum. I am completely and utterly in love with you, you brilliant witch.”
“With me, or with my blueberry scones?” Fred snorted at the cheeky remark and moved to kiss the smirk off Hermione’s lips, nearly groaning in relief when they finally made contact and he was able to taste her lips once more. He tried to convey everything he’d wanted to tell her since she’d left Bill and Fleur’s wedding, all the ‘I miss yous’ and ‘stay safes’ and all the hurt and pain and terror her absence had caused him. One day he’d be able to tell her this, but that day was far in the future, the wounds of war too raw and open still for him to say them now, so he settled for a kiss, loving how kissing Hermione felt like he was coming home.
“With you. Always you.”