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Fred had never felt second to Ron in his entire life. Not until now. Not until he saw Hermione hanging off Ron’s arm following the final battle and not his own.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Hermione was supposed to realize how much everyone meant to her, not just Harry and Ron, and she’d come to realize how much everyone else cared about her, too. How much he cared about her.
As everyone settled with the dust and the rubble, someone brought out coffee and they all took seats wherever they could while they tried to get their adrenaline down and heart rate back to semi-normal. The adults were checking on the kids, doing roll call to see who they still needed to look for and who they were missing. Who hadn’t made it.
Merlin, he’d never been more thankful to see all of his family in the same room. His hands were shaking so much he could barely hold his cup, and he set it down on the floor. He was mad to be thinking about this right now. He should be grateful he’d even made it out alive.
“You okay, Freddie?” George sat down next to him, interrupting what he was sure was some kind of moping in Hermione’s direction.
“Guess so. Could be better. Or could be dead.”
George forced a breath that tried to be a laugh. “Yeah. True. Thought I’d lost you for a minute, though. I couldn’t find you.”
“I was scared, too. There was so much going on and I did… I got cornered and I thought…”
“Hey.” George’s hand was on his shoulder, and he immediately leaned into him. “All that matters is that we’re here together, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
After a few minutes staring in the direction Fred was, in which Hermione was curled into Ron’s side and he had an awkward arm around her, George said, “She’ll come around. It’s just… not the right time, you know.”
“Huh?” Then Fred noticed where George was looking. “Oh. Right. Not… not the right time.”
George knocked the top of his styrofoam cup against Fred’s. “She will be spending a lot more time with us now.”
“Suppose. Let’s just… get through tonight, yeah? The only thing I want to do right now is get a good shower and a comfortable bed. I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”
“That’s because you haven’t.”
“Well… that explains it, then.”
George had been right. By the end of May, things had started to go back to some sort of normal. The kind of normal that was really normal. No Voldemort. No hiding. No running. No hunting.
Harry and Hermione had practically been living at the Burrow, which was both a blessing and a curse. Fred hadn’t gotten to spend that much time with her since the summer before sixth year, but it wasn’t all amazing.
The first few days were the worst. Sleeping arrangements hadn’t been discussed, and Fred tried to not get too upset when he saw Hermione go directly to Ron’s room. Part of him wanted to tell his mum, but if Hermione needed Ron’s company to try to sleep soundly, what kind of a friend would be be to prevent that? He wasn’t going to let his own dumb feelings get in the way of her well being.
They didn’t eat breakfast the next morning, and the few plates of food ended up being fed to the pigs in the garden, whose world hadn’t even been changed. Fred was jealous of them. Every once in a while during the night, he heard Hermione’s screams from the next bedroom and curl into himself when he couldn’t do anything to help her. At the table, she looked exhausted, and Ron did too.
By lunch, sitting around and watching everyone stare at the walls was getting suffocating, so he grabbed a sandwich off the tray his mum had made and walked out the back door. He needed to eat - he knew that - and he hoped the fresh air would help the nausea. There was a slight breeze coming through the tall grass, and the clouds spelled out more rain, but he didn’t care. He’d stay out here until it did. At least, he thought he would until he noticed a mess of chestnut hair peeking out from the other side of his favorite tree by the lake.
“Hermione?” he asked, just in case he was wrong.
The figure jumped, darting around the trunk to see who was bothering her, but turned back quickly once she confirmed, but didn’t speak to him. Fred tried not to let it hurt too much.
“Am I bothering you? Do you want to be alone?”
“No.”
He could barely hear her whisper over the rustling of the grass, but he pushed forward to sit down on the other side of the trunk, his back to her. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay, that their fears would settle eventually and they’d have a new normal to go back to, even if he wasn’t sure how long it would take.
To Fred’s surprise, Hermione continued. “How’s George doing?”
Fred frowned a little, unsure of where the question was coming from, but nonetheless, he answered, desperate for the opportunity to talk to her. “Better off than I am,” he said without even thinking.
“Why’s that?”
“Ah, you don’t want to hear about it.” He cleared his throat. “I just didn’t expect things to… be like this, I reckon.”
There were a few seconds of silence, in which Fred tried to think of more things to say until he heard Hermione sniff and let out a shaky breath. Was she crying? Fred’s heart twisted painfully.
“I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself, Fred,” she managed, and the way her voice cracked had Fred confirming that she was. “I… I’ve been going and going and going nonstop… doing so much… and now… now I feel like I’m not needed anymore and I’m not helping anybody and I don’t have to research or… or put up wards before bed or be constantly watching my back or sleep in a fucking tent in the middle of the forest anymore and it’s just… I don’t know what to do and it’s so hard.”
Fred was taken aback at hearing her curse, but it only made his heart break further for her. He vaguely understood where she was coming from - he’d spent the past year mostly worrying about Hermione and trying to keep his family safe, but he had no idea what mission the three of them had been on. Whatever it had been, though, he knew how much Hermione threw herself into solving Harry’s problems. He figured she wouldn’t want to talk about it, though, and decided on answering with the only thing he knew for sure.
“You don’t have to be needed, Hermione. It’s… better to be wanted anyway, isn’t it?”
There were a few more seconds of silence in which Fred immediately regretted saying anything.
“I don’t even know if I’m wanted right now.”
I want you, he wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn’t help.
“But Ron-“
“I don’t mean like that. I mean… I don’t know. I feel… out of place here. This isn’t my home, Fred. I… I can’t stay here forever and I have no idea what’s next.”
He wished he could see her. He wished their backs weren’t to each other and they were having this conversation on the couch with Hermione in his arms. She always took comfort in touch. Being touched. He noticed it in the times she’d sit closer to Ron than necessary in the common room, or linger when she hugged Ginny after they hadn’t seen each other for a while, or just the casual way she’d touch Harry’s arm or take his hand when she was talking to him.
“Well, what would you be doing if… if all of this weren’t going on? If none of this had happened, what would you be doing?” he asked carefully.
The wind died down, and Fred could hear Hermione taking slow, deep breaths. He thought she wasn’t going to answer, and he didn’t expect her to have one. If he and George didn’t have the shop, he had no idea what he was going to be doing. And if he was being honest, he didn’t even know when they’d even be reopening. They’d needed to talk about it eventually, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon - that was for sure.
“I’d leave, I think. I’d find somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with no people around and no magic and no… no threats. Somewhere I can just… be.”
“That sounds really nice, actually,” Fred said honestly. “Perfect.”
“… You think?”
“Absolutely. I think after all this, the least we deserve is a break.”
“Well, what do you call this, then?”
“Hell.”
By the end of June, he noticed something was off between Ron and Hermione. Not that they were unhappy, but he supposed they were back to their normal near-constant bickering, and for some reason it set Fred’s teeth on edge. One evening in particular, he was getting ready for bed when their voices were echoing in the hall from the bathroom.
“Ron, all I need to do is brush my teeth. There’s not enough room in here for the two of us - what’s so important that you need to use this loo for immediately?”
“All I have to do is go to the bathroom!”
“Why can’t you use a different one? There are plenty more in this house!”
“Because this one’s mine! All my stuff’s in here!”
“None of which you need to pee! If there’s something else you’re looking to do, just let me brush my teeth and I’ll get out of your hair and you can have this bathroom the whole bloody night. Sleep in here, for all I care!”
“Why can’t you use a different bathroom if you’ve just got to brush your teeth!”
“Would you two give it a break?!” Fred finally interrupted, sticking his head into the doorframe. “You’re giving me a bloody migraine. One of you can use mine if you want. I’m out of it.”
“Fine,” Hermione finally huffed, seeing she wasn’t going to win the argument - or not wanting to bother with it anymore - grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, and slid past Fred in the doorway. He tried not to think too much about the slight breeze she left, and the smell of her perfume that lingered behind.
“Ron, come on. Give her a break, all right?”
He lowered his voice, making sure Hermione was gone. “I don’t want to go number two in anyone else’s bathroom.”
Fred rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Seriously? You couldn’t just tell her that?”
“It’s embarrassing!”
“So you’ll get in a fight with her instead?”
“It’s not like I want to.”
“Could have fooled me.”
He closed the door behind him, wondering how long this was going to go on.
Hermione was brushing her teeth in his bathroom by the time he got back to it to check on her, so he gave her a small wave and jutted a thumb in the direction of his room, letting her know he’d be in there if she needed anything. He wished she and Ron could speak that quietly.
“You’re a lifesaver, Fred,” George chuckled, pulling the earplugs out and setting them next to his bed. “Thought they’d never shut up.”
“I’m sure it won’t be the end of it. How long did you say they’d be doing this?”
George shrugged, lying down and pulling the covers up to his chin. “I didn’t think they’d ever stop snogging, to be honest. Now I’d prefer it.”
“I wouldn’t prefer either of them. He’s driving her mad.”
“It’s a lot to get used to, Fred. Not that I’m taking his side, but don’t let your feelings for her get in the way of-“
“Feelings for who?”
Fred paled at the sound of Hermione’s voice behind him while George hid his laughter with a hearty cough. She was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest.
“No one,” Fred answered so quickly his voice cracked. “Absolutely no one.”
Hermione slumped, letting out a huff. “Come on, Fred! Do you know how long it’s been since I was last involved in relationship gossip?”
“What? You? Enjoying gossip? You sure you’re Hermione Granger?” Fred’s teased, taking a seat on his bed, and trying not to get too nervous when Hermione quickly sat down next to him. A reasonable distance, sure, but the fact that he and Hermione were currently existing in the same space - and that space happened to include a bed - wasn’t making things any easier.
“I may be no fun, but I am a teenage girl. You’ve got to give me some credit for enjoying getting to live vicariously through the drama of others.”
“Because we didn’t get enough of that this year?” George interjected from his blanket cave.
"No, that's not fun drama. This is. Come on, you two. Humor me?"
"Fred's got a crush on someone who is with someone else."
"George!"
"What?! She asked."
"Oh, that's never any fun," Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Fred. Have you fancied her a while?"
This was all hypothetical, of course, wasn't it? The way Hermione was looking at him definitely wasn't indicative of any other emotion than genuine curiosity and perhaps her attempt at sympathizing with him. It wasn't very bright in their room, but she hadn't been this close to him in a long time, and it seemed like she was trying to look into his soul. Merlin, had her eyes always been this shiny and beautiful. He desperately wanted to twirl one of the stray curls that had fallen out of her bun around his finger.
Instead, he just nodded, forcing his eyes to stay on hers and not travel down to her lips.
"Well, maybe she'll wise up then, yeah? Whoever she's with probably doesn't even hold a candle to you, right?" She knocked her shoulder against Fred's playfully, then after a few seconds that were charged with something she hadn't even intended, she cleared her throat and stood. "I should, uh… probably head to sleep. Thank you again for, uh… for letting me use your sink."
"Anytime," Fred managed, mostly because whatever weird energy Hermione was suddenly giving off had confused him too. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"'Night, Fred."
"Well… that was weirdly painful," George snickered from his bed, then shielded himself from the pillow that flew in the direction of his face.
Hermione ended things with Ron on the first of August, not wanting to spoil Harry's first birthday since the war ended. They announced it over dinner that night as if they were discussing a news article. Ron didn't seem too miffed about it, nor did Hermione. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, though, and Hermione just moved into Ginny's room. It was almost a quiet transition, and Fred only really noticed a difference because for a while, they stopped talking to each other. Everyone in the house was trying to hide their relief. Fred had overheard Mrs. Weasley ask Hermione countless times if she was sure staying there was still okay, and Harry reminded her about the same number of times that he could get Grimmauld Place cleaned up and he would stay there with her until things settled.
"Harry, honestly, I'm fine," she'd insist. "Just because Ron and I aren't together anymore doesn't mean we're unable to be friends, okay? I love staying here with everyone, even if things are a bit awkward right now."
"Okay. Fine. I'm just-"
"Worried. I know."
Fred knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping during one of these conversations, but if she was going to tell anyone what had really happened between her and Ron, it would be Harry.
"But I told you that you don't need to be. Ron and I aren't angry with each other and it's not going to change anything between us once it all gets back to how it was. Anyway, would you like some tea?"
Deflecting. Classic. Fred hated himself for having the fleeting wonder if they had any Veritaserum lying around. That wouldn't get him anything except for Hermione never trusting him again. Definitely not what he needed.
"Oh! Sorry, Fred, didn't see you," she said as she nearly ran into him outside of the kitchen. In the small space, he was suddenly aware of how close they were, but every time he tried to move, she'd end up moving the same way, and they quickly began the classic hallway dance where neither party got to go anywhere. Eventually, Fred let out a laugh and reached out to set his hands on either of Hermione's shoulders and move her to one side so that he could move to the other.
"There. That's…"
"Right." She giggled, a beautiful sound that was music to his ears, and it hit him suddenly how long it had been since he'd heard it first hand. "Sorry, I-"
"It's fine! Small house, you know. Well… big house, small… spaces." Fred cringed at himself and shook his head, then realized his hands were still on Hermione and lowered them quickly. "Uh, I'll just be getting out of your way, then."
"Actually, if you don't mind helping me get the tea, I'd appreciate it."
"Sure," he answered without hesitation.
Hermione insisted on making tea the Muggle way, which meant she was stalling. Intentionally making her time in the kitchen longer than necessary, and when Fred accused her of such, she just scoffed playfully.
"Please, Fred. Just because I want to do things the Muggle way every once in a while doesn't mean I'm… stalling." Still, he couldn't help but notice the way her tongue moved to the corner of her mouth as she passed him the tea bags. "The green tea with lemon is for-"
"You. I know," he grinned.
"You know?"
"You only drank it nearly every morning at school." He dropped the bag into the cow print mug with udders coming out the front - the one Hermione always used when she was over there because she thought it was silly - and leaned against the counter as they waited for the water to boil.
"I just… didn't think you were paying attention."
"Guess I'm full of surprises, then."
"What else?"
Fred turned to her, his gaze out the window broken by her question. "Huh?"
"What other surprises are you hiding?" Was she smirking?
"Oh no, Granger, you're not finding out all my secrets that easily," he smirked back. "But. If you promise not to tell," Fred made a show of looking around the kitchen as if making sure no one was listening in, which made Hermione's eyes go wide with curiosity, "I will tell you about one thing I've been hiding."
"Promise," Hermione whispered with a dramatic zip of her lips.
Fred took a couple steps down the length of the counter to the fridge, then reached up over the top of it and pulled a tin out of the cabinet. Once he'd gotten tall enough for he and George to be the only ones in the family who could reach it, it had become a wonderful hiding spot.
He opened the top of the tin and held it out to Hermione, revealing a number of shortbread biscuits.
"That's where those went?!" Hermione half-whispered. "Ron's been looking for those for days."
Fred just winked, and Hermione eagerly reached in to grab two. "You can't tell him, now," he reminded her.
"Won't be too difficult given that we're not exactly speaking at the moment."
The mood thoroughly dampened, Hermione held out one of the biscuits to Fred.
"Sorry," he started, "I didn't mean-"
"No, it's fine. I know everyone's wanting to know."
"Wanting to know what?" He carefully took the biscuit from her, trying not to let their fingers touch for too long.
"Why we broke up."
"None of my business, is it?"
Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "You don't care?"
"Not if it's something you don't want us to know. Or… whatever reason you want to tell people. I mean, if we're being honest, it's been… quieter. Which… has been nice." Hermione chuckled around the bite of biscuit in her mouth. "And you've been happy. That's all that really matters."
"If… if I'm happy? You care more about if I'm happy than if Ron's happy?"
Fred cleared his throat, taking a large bite so he wouldn't have to talk for a few seconds as his mind whirled, trying to backtrack, trying to figure out what the best answer would be in order to not sound weird. But she didn't seem like she found it weird. She wasn't stiff. Her face was relaxed, her arm at her side. She was just curious, wasn't she? Maybe he could still play it off. As long as he didn't stick his foot in his mouth.
"Well, he definitely ended up with the shorter end of the stick than you, didn't he, so that's… his loss, yeah? So if he's… okay with that…"
Exactly what he was trying to avoid.
"What I mean to say," he attempted to correct, swallowing down the shortbread that had now made his mouth feel like it was full of an unfortunate combination of cotton and foot, "was that… you know… you're… well, you're just a better catch than he is, that's all."
She looked at him with a strange frown, and he could see that brilliant mind of hers working. It was only going to be a matter of time if she kept thinking about it, especially if she remembered their conversation in his room that one night.
"Fred, I-"
He'd never been so excited for the kettle to whistle. He quickly scooped it up and poured the water in everyone's cups before grabbing two and levitating another so he could head out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, trying not to think about what Hermione had been ready to say.
—-
Hermione's birthday had Fred panicking. It was only a couple days away now and Fred still had no idea what he was going to get her. Nothing he could think of seemed right. Every object seemed too cliche. Not personal enough. She was sure to get quills or journals or ink or books. God, he couldn't even imagine getting her a book. How dull would that be? She'd read nearly every book he'd ever heard of, so surely he wouldn't be able to find anything new. Nothing from the shop was anything she'd be interested in, even with their new inventory they'd put out since the reopen, and he wasn't crafty or handy. Ginny's ideas were all right, but none of them spoke to him, Harry's were… well, Harry never was the best at giving gifts. He wasn't even going to bother asking Ron. Even worse, she was back at Hogwarts now, and he missed her immensely.
He would only have her actual birthday to see her anyway, as it just so happened to luckily coincide with the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. That in itself was already embarrassing enough because he'd have to make an effort to seek her out. He could just see it now: "Hey, Hermione? Got a moment? I know you're trying to enjoy your weekend but I'd really love to get a moment alone to give you a birthday present."
Merlin, he was an idiot.
"Look," George began as they were stocking shelves one morning - the Wednesday before her birthday, in fact - "if you want to get her something personal, maybe you just need to just… go to some different stores. I mean, there's loads more shops than just Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. There's… you know… there's Knockturn Alley. Oh! Didn't they just build out some shops in Stratford? What's the name… ah, I can't think of it now. But I thought I heard Lee saying something. I can just ask him and-"
"They'll still have the same stuff, George. Every magical shop's got the same type of things - that's the problem."
"And how the hell is that worth getting mad at me over?" He shoved a box into Fred's chest. "Take that upstairs and maybe get your head on while you're up there, yeah?"
"Sorry," Fred grumbled, but took the box from him and headed up the stairs to put everything where it belonged. Maybe George was right. Maybe he just needed to think outside the box, so to speak. The box here meaning, well, everything he knew. Hermione didn't really like to shop a lot of places, though. Most of the new stuff she ended up with was from the few times she went home to see her parents.
"That's it!" Fred almost dropped the box, but luckily caught it before it fell. If Wizarding shops weren't going to help him any, he needed to look in Muggle stores. That was one of her dreams, wasn't it? If she wasn't at Hogwarts to sit her exams, that one day in the garden, she'd said she would want to be somewhere with no people, no magic, no threats. He couldn't quite promise no people, but maybe he could step out of his comfort zone for a bit.
"George!" he yelled down the stairs. "I need a Muggle!"
He wasn't quite sure how he managed to get her alone on her trip to Hogsmeade, but bribing her with the promise of a gift worked better than he thought it would.
"I've been to Hogsmeade loads of times, Fred. I'm not missing anything." She waved everyone else off with her hand as they headed towards the Three Broomsticks, and Fred wiped his hands on his pants before holding the door open for her.
This isn't a date, Fred, he had to remind himself, because something about this certainly felt like one. He maybe had dressed up a bit, but it was a special occasion wasn't it? Hermione's birthday only happened once a year. He straightened out his jacket as he led them to a table, and noticed Hermione was looking around curiously.
"George isn't meeting us?" she asked once they sat down.
Was she disappointed? Fred tried not to let it tighten his chest too much. "Ah, no. Not today." Suddenly feeling very hot, he shrugged his jacket off and set it down next to him. "Emergency at the shop."
"And he didn't need your help?"
"Probably doesn't trust I'll do anything but make it worse," he laughed, but Hermione didn't think it was funny.
"Hey, give yourself some credit, Fred! I know for a fact you're responsible. Or… at least, more than some, anyway," she teased.
Fred insisted on buying Hermione's butterbeer, as well as an order of chips for them to share, because he promised there would be more food later if she wanted (a statement that had her raising an eyebrow). Once they were alone again, Fred couldn't help but continue the original conversation.
"Were you wanting to see him? George?"
"Oh, no! No, I mean… no, not necessarily. Just thought you two were usually a package deal."
"Well, this," he gestured between them, "just so happens to be our birthday special, which is one-on-one, I'm afraid."
Fred could have sworn he saw Hermione blush, but in the dim lighting, he couldn't be sure.
“In that case… thank God I got you, then.”
Those five words implanted themselves into his brain so quickly and thoroughly, he didn’t think he’d ever forget them. He had no idea what she meant by them, nor did he know better than to read too much into them, but for a moment, the sparkle in her eye had him convinced that maybe she thought this was a date after all. Or maybe that she just wanted it to be. But he couldn’t count on it, so he just straightened up a bit and let out a nervous laugh, unsure of what to say in response, afraid that anything he did manage to get out of his mouth would be stupid enough to make her change her mind.
When they were done with their drinks and chips and conversation had somehow managed to get on topics that didn’t involve either of them, Fred quickly paid and checked his watch, eager to get a move on.
“What time do you have to be back again?”
“Five.”
“Excellent. Doing brilliant on time if you’re ready for the next stop.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” Nevertheless, she grabbed her bag and slid the strap over her shoulder, scooting out of the booth quickly followed by Fred.
“Ah, well, yes. You do know what the word surprise means, don’t you, Granger?”
“Of course I do. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“You’ll like this one,” Fred promised. “Least, I hope you will.”
“I’ve enjoyed my time so far, if that makes you feel any better.”
“And we haven’t even gotten to the good part.”
“So it can only get better, then,” she teased.
There was something incredibly charming about how easily she was falling into step with his banter. She wasn’t usually like this - maybe these last few months at Hogwarts had really brought her into a new shell. Or maybe it was just being alone with him.
“Absolutely,” Fred agreed, holding the door for her again as they existed. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of Apparating, of course.”
“Apparating? We’re not staying here?”
“You think I was going to let you spend your birthday in boring old Hogsmeade?”
“Can I at least get a hint, then?”
“Nope!”
“Fred.”
“Hermione.”
“Come on. Please?”
“We’re literally going there right now and you want me to spoil it for you? You’re no fun.”
“I thought that had already been established.”
Fred couldn’t help but laugh at the joke. “I thought self-deprecating humor was Harry’s specialty.”
“Yes, well, I suppose spending a year and a half straight with someone means they start to rub off on you.”
“That’s what they’re calling it these days, eh?” he snorted. Hermione only gasped, playfully slapping Fred’s arm with the back of her hand - a much gentler version of the way Ginny usually smacked him when he said something dumb like that. Then it hit him as to why she seemed to different these days: she’d spent the entire summer with them. Nearly every second of the day and night, and they’d truly become her family. Hermione had unintentionally indoctrinated herself as an honorary Weasley. He wasn’t sure if that made all of this more or less awkward, but he was going to convince himself if was less.
Because of how busy it was with students running around on the streets, and halfway because he really didn’t know if this was allowed, so he didn’t want to get caught trying to kidnap the Golden Girl or anything, he pulled Hermione into a less crowded path and boldly held out his hand. “Trust me?”
Hermione took one look at Fred’s hand, acted as if she was contemplating something, then just as boldly placed her hand on top of his, slotting their fingers together and holding on tightly, not giving either of them time to overthink anything before they were gone.
She was speechless when they landed in the middle of a town that looked like it was right out of a book. Fred hadn’t been able to find a Muggle in such short notice, but Lee’s girlfriend was Muggleborn, so she was the next best thing. The smallest town she could think of was a little town called Rye they’d stopped through at one point, but she remembered a bunch of small shops and very picturesque buildings with cobblestone streets and flower boxes hanging out of every window.
It had sounded perfect, and being here in person, it certainly didn’t disappoint. It was almost as if they’d traveled back in time. They couldn’t see much of the town from their vantage point as Fred had Apparated into a play field in an attempt at not being spotted, but what he could see was just as amazing as she’d described.
Best of all, Hermione wasn’t letting go of his hand.
It was almost eerie, how few people were out and about on such a sunny Saturday, but it was still early in the day, so maybe everyone had just decided on a lie in. A slight breeze carried the smell of cinnamon and baked goods their way as they neared the main road, which drew Hermione’s attention immediately.
“I want to go wherever that’s coming from.”
“You got it.”
Once they got to the crest of a short hill, they could see the surrounding land - fields and trees with no other towns in sight. No people - check. Fred was already off to a promising start.
“Where are we?”
“It’s called Rye. Muggle village in Sussex.”
Hermione stopped them walking, looking up at him. “A Muggle village? Why did you bring me to a Muggle village?”
“You said you wanted to escape magic for a little while,” he admitted, unworried in the moment that she would find it strange for him to remember. “So… that’s what we’re doing today.”
The only response she gave was a watery smile. A very grateful watery smile that Fred understood even though she hadn’t said anything. She only tugged him further in the direction of the cinnamon. The main road, High Street, was barely wide enough to fit two cars, but in such unfamiliar territory, Fred noticed Hermione walking even closer to him than normal, still with a grip on his hand, and still looking around with wonder in her eyes. Fred probably would have thought it was beautiful, too, if he hadn’t been too focused on watching Hermione.
She stopped to press her face against the window of every store they passed on that side of the street - a pet shop with rescue puppies and kittens playing in pens in front of the window (which Fred pleaded with Hermione not to go in), some sort of general store, one that just sold postcards from different parts of England, a chocolate shop (which they did stop in for a sample), and finally, when they got to the corner, something did catch her eye, a shop with hats and embroidered pillows in the display with Ethel Loves Me painted above the window.
“Fred?” she whispered. “You… did bring some Muggle money, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” Fred answered. “Even made sure I knew how to use it and everything. At least… I’m pretty sure.”
“Would you mind too terribly if we go in here?”
“Whatever you want! I told you - it’s your birthday. Whatever you want today is on me. Within reason, of course.”
Hermione bit her lip, but he opened the door for her nonetheless. The inside was full of colorful scarves, jewelry, knitted jumpers in all shades of the rainbow, and beautiful mosaic glass panes hanging from the ceiling that painted the walls and floor when the sunlight came through.
“Oh, these are beautiful,” Hermione whispered, reaching out to touch one, but stopping short in fear of breaking it, and instead letting her fingers run through the light.
“Aren’t they?” said the girl at the front desk, leaning on her elbows. “My mum made those.”
“So these are one of a kind?”
“Everything in here is. All from locals. Every once in a while we’ll get some bigger brands in, but it’s such a small town that most of the time, it’s not even worth stocking. Where are you two visiting from?”
“London,” Hermione answered immediately, while Fred was still clearly distracted looking around the store. He couldn’t believe all these people made all of this by hand. Without even using any magic. It was incredible. He’d seen the girls at school go around wearing strings woven into friendship bracelets around their wrists but these were intricate painted beads with jewels and colorful ribbons. It had to take them hours.
“Fred… er, well, that’s Fred. He brought me here for my birthday. Just a day outing.”
“Your boyfriend?” the girl teased, and Fred nearly choked on his own spit, but managed to swallow it down somehow.
“No,” Hermione answered, maybe a little too quickly for Fred’s liking. “No, just… just a friend.” The second part didn’t sound quite so convincing. Not that he was listening in or anything.
Sensing the awkwardness, the girl continued. “Well, if you see something you like, some of it can be customized too! Names, birthdays, all kinds of stuff! What’s your name?”
“Hermione.”
“Like from A Winter’s Tale?”
There was a pause, in which Fred looked towards Hermione. She was beaming like he’d never seen her before. It was beautiful. He had no idea what A Winter’s Tale was nor what it had to do with Hermione’s name, but clearly she looked like she’d just made a best friend.
“Yes, exactly,” she finally answered. “No one’s ever made the connection before.”
“You won’t be finding that on any keychain now, will you?” the girl laughed. “Mine’s Fae. Well, that’s what everyone calls me at least. Won’t find that on a keychain, either. Anyway, have a look around. Let me know if anything catches your eye.”
Fred had moved into another section of the store by the time the girl had finished with Hermione, finding a section in the corner of all kinds of earrings, but looking at all of them, he suddenly couldn’t even remember if Hermione’s ears were even pierced. And if she didn’t wear earrings often enough for him to know, should he bother getting her any? Did she even like wearing earrings?
“Hey, not boyfriend Fred,” Fae suddenly appeared next to him, making him jump, “are you looking to be boyfriend Fred?”
“What? Oh. Uh, no. I just… I mean, I… uh… is it obvious?”
“Only a little,” she laughed.
He didn’t know why he wanted to tell this complete stranger his entire history with Hermione, but this could be it. His one moment. And if he could have help to get there, he’d take it. “I’ve actually fancied her for a long time, but she’s been… unavailable up until recently.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She was dating my brother.”
“Oooh… ouch. That’s a rough one. How long?”
“May to August.”
“When in August?”
“The first. They’re still friends, though. Good friends before, good friends after. It just didn’t work out.”
“Hmm…” Fae paused for a few seconds, looking over the options, then back at Hermione to make sure she was distracted, then finally back to the earrings. “These.” She took a pair off the rack that Fred didn’t see, hidden behind a pair of puffy white pompoms. They were simple, teardrop-shaped and encased in silver, but the inside looked like it had been popped out of one of the glass mosaics handing from the ceiling. “Thought we’d sold the last ones the other day, but looks like these were waiting for you. Just like magic, huh?”
“Something like that,” Fred chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sure it’s not too much?”
“No way! She’ll love it. Go up to the top of the tower at St. Mary’s cathedral and give them to her there. It’s the best view of the town, too.”
Fred’s jaw dropped in amazement at how easily the idea had formed in this girl’s head. It was almost too perfect, but it did sound nice. He took the earrings from her nevertheless, knowing how much she would love them no matter where he gave them to her, and turned them over in his hand. The shades of blue would be a beautiful contrast with her eyes - they reminded Fred of the sky on a clear summer day, when there were no clouds out.
Though if these were a present for Hermione, that meant he’d have to buy them without her knowing. He’d have to hope he got the money right all by himself, otherwise he’d look like a complete idiot and probably ruin the entire day, wouldn’t he? He let out a deep breath, not having to fake his nerves at all. “I want to let her pick out something, too, if she wants.”
“Yeah, sure! I’ll keep these waiting for you up at the front for whenever you’re ready, then.”
“Great,” Fred said to her back as she walked off. “Thanks.” It felt like he’d been through a whirlwind. What just happened? Suddenly he was alone in the section of the store, but not for long. Hermione was coming up to him with something in her hands, and he already felt immediately more at ease in this unfamiliar place being in her presence.
“Okay, I think I’ve picked out my present.”
“One of them.”
Hermione frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You think I was only gonna let you walk away with a single gift today?”
“Well… no, I suppose not. Anyway, look at this!” She opened her carefully cupped hands to reveal a porcelain statue of a fat orange cat wearing an ugly Christmas jumper, complete with glass lights and an unamused expression. “It’s Crooks!”
“Can’t even pick out a birthday present for yourself without thinking about your cat, can you?” Fred teased, but had to admit it was an adorable figurine. And nothing a couple cushioning charms couldn’t help keep safe.
“Of course I can’t!” she laughed. “And you can’t make fun of it if I’ve decided I want it as my birthday present, so that’s final.”
“No, I can make fun of it, and you bet I will, but I’ll still allow you to pick it as your birthday present. And I expect to see it next to Crooks over the entirety of Christmas break-” Fred stopped short, realizing he’d just assumed she’d be spending it with them. He shouldn’t, though… where else did she have to spend it, really? Surely she had other family, right? Cousins? Friends, even?
But Hermione only grinned. “Of course. He’ll love it. He’s always wanted a friend.”
So she would be spending it with them. The thought released the anxiety from his heart at the thought of her alone on Christmas. She wouldn’t be, no matter where she was; Fred would make sure of it.
“That’s probably your best bet. Anything living and he’d want to stay at Hogwarts over break.”
Hermione laughed again, but it wasn’t quite as genuine, and had Fred wondering - fretting over, really - what he said to cause the change. “Here. You can look around a bit more. I’ll go ahead and get this for you.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help figuring out the money?”
“Promise.” He took a chance and reached out to squeeze her hand. It shouldn’t have felt any different than the way they’d been holding hands while walking, but for some reason, it did; Fred didn’t try to put too much weight on it, or he’d only get nervous again. Something had definitely shifted.
Fred didn’t miss the way Fae eyed Hermione, making sure she wasn’t looking before stealthily letting Fred know the total, and after a brief moment of panic, he was able to pull out the right amount of bills with little difficulty and hand them over, sighing with relief when he got the change back.
“Don’t forget about St. Mary’s church tower,” she reminded him.
“What’s that?” Hermione asked, having finished looking around and approaching Fred at the counter. He hastily stuffed the well-wrapped goodies in the bag and thrust it behind his back so she couldn’t count the extra object in it.
“Only the best view of all of Rye,” Fae explained. “Just take a left up at the next corner on Lion Street and you can’t miss it.”
“Lion Street?” Hermione repeated with an exasperated chuckle.
“Mmhmm!”
“Interesting. Got it. Thank you! Oh! What is it that smells of cinnamon? It’s all we could smell when we got here and we’ve been walking around just trying to find it!” Hermione asked.
“Ah.” Fae grinned. “That’ll be the cinnamon buns from Apothecary. They’re incredible. The coffee’s good, too, but no one goes for that. That’s right here on High Street, too. Just up the road past the bookstore.”
“The bookstore?”
“Mmhmm. Well, I won’t keep you from your day. Nice to meet you two!”
“You as well,” Hermione said genuinely. “Thank you!”
When they stepped out of the store, they both had to take a moment to get their bearings. Being in the Muggle world again - being reminded that they were in the Muggle world, was a bit jarring. More so for Fred, who had never even been in a Muggle town for this long, and who had half expected to see Diagon Alley when they went back onto the street.
Though, “I want to go to the bookstore,” were the first words out of Hermione’s mouth, so how different was anything, really?
“Of course you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she laughed. Since his hand was occupied with the bag, Hermione settle on looping her arm through his, using it as a good excuse to walk closer to him anyway.
“It means of course you want to go to the bookstore,” Fred said pointedly. “That’s all. I couldn’t imagine leaving a place without going to one if there’s one to go to.”
Hermione sighed. “Am I really that predictable?”
“Only when it’s about something you love. You get very passionate. It’s cute.”
“Cute?”
Fred paused, not wanting to look over at her in fear that he would start backtracking. She’d given him the chance to say something else, to pretend like he hadn’t just told her one of his favorite traits. But he’d gotten her earrings, he’d planned to spend an entire day alone with her, and he wasn’t about to ruin any chance by chickening out. “Yeah,” he replied decisively.
It took them barely over a minute to get to the bookstore, and Hermione nearly ran in, seemingly excited for the distraction. There was no employee ready to greet them this time or personally walking Fred around the store, but Hermione didn’t need it. Fred settled down in an overstuffed armchair by the window and watched her. That’s it - just watched her. He watched the way her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth and her head turned so that she could read the titles on the spines. Then, she’d drag her finger along a couple of them before choosing one and tipping it off the shelf. A couple times, she opened it to the first page and start reading, then put it back. Every once in a while, she’d read the back, but most of the time, it seemed like she was trusting her gut to decide simply based on the title and cover, which was a strange thing for Hermione to do.
Usually one to use logic over feeling, it was strange to watch Hermione not compare books, reading the first chapter of every book, looking at the author, the title, reviews on the back, asking store employees, taking to other people in the store. In the end, after what felt like an hour of watching Hermione’s wonderful heart working just as much as her brain, she approached him, clutching two books tightly to her chest.
“Okay, I’m going to get these and then we can go. Sorry I took so long!”
“What?! No, don’t apologize! They’ve got free coffee here! I’m fine! Here,” he leaned forward to pull his wallet out, “I’ll get-”
“No, I’ll get these myself! One… well… one of them’s for you, so… I don’t want you to see it,” she admitted, hugging them tighter, and Fred had never wanted to be a book so much in his life.
“You’ve got Muggle money?”
“Yeah, I uh… I got into the habit of carrying it when… well, you know, when I was with Harry and Ron, so, uh, I always have some on me.”
“Oh,” Fred said simply, rubbing his palms on his pants. For a moment, for the day, he’d forgotten all about the war. “That… makes sense, yeah. Go ahead. I’ll just wait outside.” He drained the remaining couple sips of coffee from the styrofoam cup and tossed it into the bin as he stood. She grinned widely, any awkwardness forgiven, and headed up to the counter.
When she came back onto the street with a small bag looped over her wrist, Fred couldn’t help but smile. “Only two, huh?”
“Oh, it was so hard to choose. I haven’t seen that many fiction books in a long time! And so many of them were used, Fred! That just made it even harder to pick, but I think I’ll really enjoy the one I got. And I hope you’ll enjoy the one I got for you, too. You can’t have it until Christmas, though,” Hermione insisted.
“That’s months away!!”
“Well, I’ll be on your mind for a long time then,” she smirked, knocking her shoulder against his. “Now, can we please find those cinnamon buns?”
“Ah, the final quest.”
“Final?” She said it like she didn’t want the day to end. And if Fred were being honest, neither did he.
“Well, one of them,” he corrected after checking his watch again. “We’ve got a couple hours left.”
“It’s been that long already?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun and all that.”
“I forgot I had to go back.” Hermione sighed.
“McGonagall will have my head if I keep you out even a minute past five, Miss Granger, so best not push it,” he smirked, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. “I’m not letting you leave without dessert and going to see the church.”
“You want to go?” Hermione asked genuinely. “I didn’t think you would care.”
Fred chuckled. “Well, how can I pass up the best view of the whole town? Why, do you think I’ll burn at the threshold?”
A laugh bubbled from Hermione’s throat. “How do you know about that?”
“Listen around Hogwarts enough and you hear nearly everything,” he admitted, nodding. “Religion comes up more often than you’d think, especially with the Muggleborns.”
Hermione just hummed at the thought, but didn’t continue the conversation in favor of nearly dragging Fred down the street once the Apothecary Coffee Shop sign came into view. Even though he’d just finished a cup of coffee at the bookstore, he couldn’t help but me lulled in at the promise of a fresh brew. Based on the faded, peeling paint on the side, it was ancient, which wasn’t unexpected in this town - everything was ancient.
“I bet this building was an old pharmacy or something,” Hermione whispered as if she read his mind.
“Pharmacy?”
“Yeah, it’s where people get medicine. A lot of the really old ones used more… herbal remedies than they do now, so all the windows were used to help the plants grow.”
“Fascinating,” Fred muttered under his breath. He meant to ask Hermione how she knew all this, but the question left his mouth at the sight of the large cinnamon buns displayed in the pastry case. “Sweet Merlin, that’s as big as my head.”
Less than ten minutes later, Fred had all the shopping bags hanging on one arm and one hand holding a cup of coffee while the other hand held Hermione’s, who was clutching the cinnamon bun like a lifeline. She was pulling him towards the church, and once they got there and made their way up to the top tower, as Far had instructed, the sight truly was breathtaking. The view, too. Not just Hermione.
Farmland and trees stretched out nearly as far as the eye could see, and on the other side, the entire tiny town. From this height, they could see remnant of what looked like walls all around the border. Close enough to the ground to watch people, the few milling around the streets were taking their time. Couples walking arm-in-arm, probably not far off from how they would have looked earlier. A few clouds were starting to come in as the sun threatened to fall behind them, but Hermione’s eyes were shining as if looking directly into it.
It was clear she was truly in her element up here, and Fred hated that he had to tear her out of it before too long. She took a bite of the cinnamon bun and closed her eyes, moaning softly at the taste, and Fred had never heard a more beautiful sound in his life.
“God, this is amazing, Fred. You’ve got to have the next bite.” She held it out to him as the took seats on a bench that had been erected just for the purpose of watching the town.
A bit taken aback at her boldness but not wanting to disappoint, he leaned in and took a bite much larger than hers, and knew immediately she wasn’t exaggerating. It was still warm, so fluffy on the inside, with a bit of a crunch on the outside, cinnamon baked into the dough as well as through the middle, and just enough icing so it wasn’t overpowering, but when we pulled away with a grin as big as Hermione’s, he noticed a bit of icing on the side of her mouth, nearly to her cheek.
Without even a second thought, he reached out to swipe his thumb along her skin to clean it off, and their eyes locked for a moment until Fred realized what he was doing, and quickly pulled his hand back, clearing his throat harshly as he wiped his hand on his pants. “S-Sorry.”
Hermione was silent for a few seconds, her gaze focused out the window, and took another bite of the cinnamon bun before speaking again. “You want to know why I broke up with Ron?”
He didn’t miss the way she worded it. She broke up with him when Fred had thought it had been mutual. He tried not to let his face give away too much. “I… I mean, it’s up to you. If you want to say. It’s none of my business, really.”
“It was nothing against him, necessarily. He just… I think once the adrenaline of the war wore off and things were back to normal, it was… well, that was just it. Things were back to normal. And our feelings for each other had really only been… fueled by lighter fluid. Nothing sustainable. He thought he could make it work, that he could be better, but I don’t think either of us were in any place for a relationship, so… I told him that I wasn’t interested in wasting either of our time.”
“Were?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Well… yes.” He didn’t miss the way she blushed, hiding it by pulling another piece of the bun off and stuffing it in her mouth. Classic tactic to buy time. He’d used it himself plenty. When she swallowed, she continued. “I’m in a much better place now. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All of it. I’ve got your family to thank for that, actually. There’s a special kind of magic at the Burrow.”
“That there is,” Fred agreed. “I’m glad you never got tired of us.”
Hermione grinned. “I could never get tired of you. All of you,” she quickly corrected. “I mean you like in the collective sense, not… not just you, Fred. Though I don’t think I could ever get tired of you, either. I…” Hermione shifted, almost nervously, “I’m really looking forward to spending Christmas with you.”
Fred’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “You mean the collective sense?”
After a few moments, Hermione just answered with a simple, “No.”
He cleared his throat, pulling off another piece of cinnamon bun so he’d have an excuse to reach over to her. “So, uh… since you’re… ready to start dating again, is there, uh… anyone you’ve got in mind?” It was a stupid question, and if he was wrong, he knew he was just going to end up hurting himself. But Fred hadn’t felt so sure about something in a long time, if the way she’d been acting today was any indication.
“Perhaps,” she teased.
“But you’re not gonna tell me, are you?”
“Where would the fun in that be? Besides, he’s not even at Hogwarts, and what’s the point of getting into a relationship with someone you’re not even going to see for another three months?”
Fred thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest and off the tower, splatting onto the street below. She had to be talking about him. She just had to be.
“Well,” he began carefully, “it’d be rubbish, understandably. But, objectively, as a third party who’s not at all involved, of course, I think it’d be worth it. I mean, he’d want to know, at least, how you feel. So he’s not spending those three months wondering. Or… hoping. Dreaming.”
“Dreaming?”
“Sometimes.”
Hermione was quiet for a moment again, looking down at the cinnamon bun and taking another bite. He had no idea what was spurring him on to spill his guts out to her, but if he wasn’t about to see her for another three months, what did he have to lose, really?
“I just… I mean, say that I did tell him. Then what? We write each other letters every week and see each other when we can?” The way she was talking, though, it sounded like she nearly had herself convinced.
“That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing, does it?” Fred shrugged. “Besides, if he feels the same way about you, which I’m positive he does, and for whatever reason he just so happens to be spending a lot of time in Diagon Alley, I just so happen to know that there is a Floo straight from Flourish & Blotts to Scrivener’s that, say, someone who has a shop might be able to get access to under the guise of needing supplies.” He cleared his throat softly, trying to gauge her reaction. The more he spoke, the larger Hermione’s smile got, though still small, as if she was trying to hide it. But he could see it in her eyes.
She bit her lip. “There is?”
“There is.”
“So… theoretically… if he was able to use this… we could… see each other every Hogsmeade weekend?”
“You could.”
“That does make things a little more… convincing.”
“Yeah?”
Hermione shifted a little, and Fred could have sworn she moved closer to him. “But what if… let’s say… I really wanted to kiss him.” Fred’s breath hitched. “Do you think he’d be okay with not kissing me again for a month?”
“No,” Fred answered immediately. “But, uh… I think he’d manage. I think it would be better than not kissing you at all.” When he finally looked over to her, her gaze flicked down to his lips as her tongue darted out to wet her own. He wondered if she tasted like cinnamon and icing. “Because he does. Want to kiss you. If… if you weren’t sure.”
“He does?” she whispered, eyes widening like it was a surprise. Like him wanting her after all this time was a surprise. And it was a beautiful sight.
“He does,” Fred repeated, and before he could say anything else, she closed the gap between them and planted her lips firmly on his, resting her free hand on his shoulder, and it was the best he’d felt in years. Nothing in the world mattered except the way she was kissing him like her very existence depended on it, and when her lips parted and her tongue slid out hesitantly, he couldn’t help but groan. She did taste like cinnamon. And coffee. Her jumper was soft as his hand splayed across her back to hold her closer. To not let her go.
After a few seconds of bliss, he pulled away to breathe and make sure he wasn’t actually dreaming. But there Hermione was, her face centimeters from his own, eyes still closed and lips still parted like she was waiting for him to go back in.
And he did.
He kissed her until she was breathless, sliding his hand to the nape of her neck, threading his fingers through her curls and nearly knocking over the coffee he’d set down to wrap his arm around her waist.
When she gripped his hair, he knew he was done for, and let out an involuntary moan against her lips, a moan that made her pull away and Fred to regret ever letting it slip, because it meant she stopped.
“Fred,” she whispered. Whispered. And it did so many things to his body that he didn’t think should be happening in a church. He was buzzing. His head was spinning. He opened his eyes and a shiver ran down his spine at the look she was giving him. Maybe this was a bad idea after all, only for the reason that he wanted her. He’d never seen her eyes so dark. How long had she been waiting for this?
“Fred,” she repeated, a little more consciousness to her voice, not that it helped, “I don’t know if I can go a month without kissing you again. I’d have kissed you a long time ago if I’d known…”
“What?”
“That it would be so incredible.” She blushed, releasing her grip on his hair to smooth it back into place.
“Can I please deliver you back to Hogwarts looking like you’ve been thoroughly snogged?”
Hermione chuckled breathlessly and ran her fingertips over Fred’s jaw, her thumb brushing his lips. “Absolutely,” she finally answered, “but… this isn’t the place to be doing that sort of thing. Let’s um… maybe we can find somewhere a little more…”
“Uncivilized?”
“I was going to say unlikely for someone to interrupt, but… uncivilized works, too.” He proudly didn’t miss how she braced herself against the pillar as she stood. He’d done that. He’d reduced her legs to jelly from just kissing her, and it was a slippery slope to imagining how she’d be after other activities.
Wow, he really needed to get the blood moving to other places in his body immediately. “Yeah, let’s… I know you’re enjoying the view-”
“I think I’ve seen enough,” she quickly finished, picking up the last remnants of the cinnamon bun and her near-empty coffee and depositing the cup in the bin on the way out. Holding out the wrapper, she asked, “Want the last bit?”
“Nah, I think I prefer it second-hand.”
“Gross!” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the teasing, but took the last bite and threw away the paper. “So… any ideas on a good spot? Aren’t you the expert on this place?”
“I’d hardly call myself an expert, but I’m sure we can find something.” The hand that had previously been holding hers rested on the small of her back instead to keep her close. Merlin, if he didn’t care about getting kicked out or something, he’d pin her against this very wall. Whatever store it was. He just wanted her lips on his again. His tongue in her mouth and his hand in her hair.
And he was going to have to wait another month to have it again.
“Bollocks,” he muttered through gritted teeth, which only made her giggle, lessening his anger a bit.
“Don’t remind me.”
They were quiet as they walked through the empty streets, and Fred knew he’d have to have her back before too long. “Hang on. You said I could deliver you thoroughly snogged.”
“Now that you can talk about.”
“Ron’s going to know-”
“Ron already knows,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “He’s known for a while. Thought that was part of the reason we broke up, actually. It wasn’t, for the record. But… I mean just spending so much time with you over the summer and getting to see you all the time, it just… well, I couldn’t help myself, could I?”
“And… he’s okay with that?” Even if Ron was just his brother and he had no say over who Fred dated, he didn’t want things to be weird between any of them. Though Ron hadn’t acted any differently recently, so it didn’t see liked he cared. Still, it meant more coming straight from Hermione.
“Yes. I mean… as much as he can be, anyway. I don’t gush over you in front of him or anything, but he understands that I’m free to date who I like, and even if you’re his brother, it’s none of his business. But he’s not holding it against you. Probably jealous of you, if I’m being honest. As he should be.” She smirked, looking around for any onlookers before pulling him into a space between buildings. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“This is gonna be hell,” he muttered, but it was against her lips as he pressed his body flush against hers, her back against the wall. She was so small in his arms, even standing on her tiptoes so that she could reach him. If he were bolder, he’d pick her up and wrap her legs around his waist, but he didn’t want to go too far. Not now, anyway.
By the time they got back to Hogsmeade (a few minutes early, thank you very much). Hermione’s cheeks were red from blushing so much, she was flushed down her neck, her hair was all messed up and probably tangled at the ends - he hadn’t been very careful with it. But he also hadn’t seen Hermione so happy in ages, and knowing that was entirely because of him… pride didn’t even scratch the surface of how that made him feel. He felt like he could take on the world. Voldemort could show back up here in Hogsmeade and he’d just push him aside and tell him to fuck right off.
Well, maybe that was pushing it a little. Either way, Fred hadn’t felt that good in a long time. Not since well before the threats even started. And though she said he didn’t really care, the way Ron’s gaze zeroed in on his arm around Hermione’s waist as they walked up did give him a strange sense of satisfaction.
“All right, you two can have her back,” he teased. “But I’m not happy about it.”
“Had fun?” Harry asked, because Ron was still silent. For a moment, Fred felt bad, but Ron quickly shook it off and gave Fred a half-smile.
“We did. Took her to a Muggle village and bought some books.”
“Shocking,” Ron said with a sarcastic grin.
“I know. Didn’t think she’d have it in her. Oh, before I forget,” he handed over the bag with her presents in it. “Promise I didn’t look at whatever it is you got me. Just threw your stuff in there. And remember to-”
“Bring the Crooks statue to Christmas, I know.” Hermione smiled, and just for the hell of it, leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Fred’s lips.
Ron cleared his throat, but was otherwise quiet.
“Well that’s a development,” Harry muttered, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Does this mean we have to listen to you go on and on about Fred of all people for the rest of the year?!”
Fred laughed. “Could be worse. You could have to hear her go on an on about Percy.”
“Yuck,” Ron groaned. “I’d definitely prefer her talking about you. We do need to get back, though. It’s nearly five.”
Hermione just sighed, hugging Fred one last time. “You’ll write me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” Fred promised. “I didn’t do all that talking about it for nothing. I’ll miss you, honestly. I mean, now more than I would have otherwise.”
Hermione blushed, and Ron just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky to have her as a girlfriend. Don’t rub it in, all right?”
But Fred, of course, did, kissing her once more before reluctantly letting her go, saying his goodbyes, and watching the three of them head back towards the carriages.
The next three months were worse than he realized they’d be.
He missed Hermione. He missed her the second her form was out of sight. He immediately wanted to kiss her again, wrap his arms around her again, taste the cinnamon and coffee that luckily still lingered on his lips. But it would be probably be a month before he could see her again, and maybe, now that it was a reality, he understood her point about why she hadn’t wanted to start anything. It was going to be hell waiting, but it would be worth it.
By the time Christmas break came around, they’d exchanged countless letters, all of which were still stuffed in the bottom drawer of Fred’s nightstand so he could read them whenever he wanted to miss her even more, because he quickly realized that reading them when he missed her was no remedy at all and actually only made it worse. It never stopped him, though. There was something soothing about the way she swirled the bottom of the F in his name. Often, he’d find himself tracing his finger over it, imagining her sitting and writing it, flicking the quill up dramatically and chuckling to herself for being so unnecessarily fancy with a single letter.
And she always signed them “Love, Hermione”. That was his favorite part.
They’d seen each other three times since the first - once in October, once in November, and once at the beginning of December. Most of that time was spent attached to each other by either hands or lips, but they did manage to get a couple of dates somewhere in between the time they spent snogging. In October, he took her to the Shrieking Shack, which some brave students had set up as a haunted house. Hermione was nearly trying to absorb herself into his side the entire time, but assured him she wasn’t scared.
In November, he Apparated her to his flat above the shop in Diagon Alley and treated her to BLT toasties and white hot chocolate cupcakes for dessert, thinking they were done until she found some Christmas records while snooping around the living room while Fred was in the loo and convinced him to dance with her. They ended up pushing the furniture out of the way and awkwardly twirling around the living room, with Fred only stepping on Hermione’s toes a handful of times.
In December, they made a mess of the kitchen when Hermione tried to teach Fred to make cookies the Muggle way, which included a rather stressful trip to the supermarket to pick up ingredients and Fred eating half the chocolate chips before they even made it into the batter. In the end, they were both covered in flour, there were dollops of raw dough on the counter, and somehow icing had ended up on every single appliance and purposefully on Hermione’s face. But there was also a plate piled high with iced chocolate chip and sugar cookies vaguely resembling Christmas trees that they both ate way too many of.
—
Not for the first time, Molly had to tell Fred to calm down or he was going to give himself an ulcer. He’d been bouncing off the walls, sustaining himself on nothing but toast, shortbread, and coffee.
“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” George laughed cooly, leaning against the wall as Fred stretched to attach another sprig of mistletoe in the middle of a doorway. There was one every chance he got so that she’d have to kiss him as many times as possible to make up for the months they’d lost.
“I’m not nervous,” Fred insisted. “Just… trying to make sure everything’s perfect.”
“Well you’ve helped with so many decorations, I’m sure Mum’s not got any problems with it. You’ve saved me a lot of work.”
“Yeah, yeah. You just want to spend more time with Claire.”
“That’s what happens when some of us date people who aren’t still at Hogwarts, eh?”
Fred gave him a mocking sneer, finishing up the mistletoe and gesturing up towards it. “Wanna test it?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. I’ll get the two of you under this thing, I promise.”
“What’d you do to it?”
“Ah, well, just that you’ve got to kiss for at least ten seconds or it doesn’t let you go.”
“Bloody hell, Fred, just take her somewhere and do that where you’re not in front of the whole family,” he laughed. “Genius, though. I’ll give you that. If you can keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’m a saint.”
“Oh, that’s what they’re calling it these days?”
“Yeah how long did you last with your girlfriend?”
George immediately put his hands up in surrender. “Have you seen her, though?”
“You’ve got your type; I’ve got mine,” he grinned. “What’s the time?”
“Two thirty. She’ll be here any minute. Have you wrapped her gift yet?”
“Yep. Did that yesterday.” Fred was flittering around the house, rearranging pillows that George was putting back behind him and adjusting every single picture and hanging decoration before fluffing out the Christmas tree. “Think we’ve got enough ornaments?”
“Okay, Fred. I’m about to pour a calming draught down your throat if you don’t get it together. Mum’s already left just to get away from you.”
“Has not!”
“She sure has!”
“Mum!”
Silence.
“Told you.”
“Prick.”
Less than ten minutes later, Fred had changed into a light-up Christmas jumper he’d charmed Hermione’s face on when she walked through the door herself, wearing the earrings he'd given her for her birthday (he had a feeling she rarely took them off), and straight into Fred’s arms.
“You’ve got to get out of that jumper, Fred, it’s ridiculous,” she laughed, but buried her face into his chest nonetheless.
“You’re just jealous you haven’t got one with my face on it.” It felt so good to have her in his arms again, hands in her hair, kissing her like they were the only two in the room to the mix of “awwww”s and groans of various members of his family until they pulled apart for Fred to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her properly into the house. “Come on; I made a cake I think you’ll like. It’s a cranberry and orange and it’s so good!”
“You already got into it?!”
“Well, of course! I had to make sure it wasn’t poisonous or anything, you know.”
“Fred, it can’t be poisoned if you made it!”
“One can never be too careful these days, hey?” He smirked as he led Hermione into the kitchen and sliced off a piece of the cake sitting on the counter. Without even thinking about it, he held it up to her mouth, a hand underneath to catch any crumbs, and after a second of hesitance, she leaned forward and bit some off.
“Oh my God, Fred… this is… this is incredible. No way you made this.”
Fred gasped in mock hurt. “You think after all the sweets we made that I wouldn’t try to spend the next month perfecting a recipe I knew you’d love just to impress you? You doubt me?”
“Try it for yourself and tell me, then.”
She was right. When he shoved the rest of the piece in his mouth, he couldn’t believe he’d made it, either. It nearly melted on his tongue, with just the right amount of sugar to balance the sour of the fruit. Hint of cinnamon from the fire whiskey. “I’ve never going to make anything this good ever again,” he chuckled, “so enjoy it while you can.”
“Well you must have gotten the recipe from somewhere, right?”
“Yeah, one of Mum’s cookbooks. If we don’t eat it all, I’ll let you take as much back with you as you want.”
“No, we’ll be eating it all.” Hermione grinned, reaching to break off another piece from the top. “Or… I will. You’ll just have to make another one, won’t you?”
“I’ll make all the cakes in the world for you, Hermione Granger, no matter how terrible they may come out in my haste.” Unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her to pull her to him again, breathing in the smell of her perfume.
“You better watch it or I might just fall in love with you, Fred Weasley,” she whispered into his shoulder, so soft he almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and pulled away slowly, trying to hide his grin.
“Might? All it takes is some cake?”
“Never said it was hard.”
“Well, lucky for you, it’s not hard to fall in love with you, either.”
“Hey, Freddie!” George called from the living room, his perfect timing interrupting any further conversation. “You and Hermione come in here for a second, would you?”
“This… we will be having this conversation later,” Fred whispered, kissing Hermione’s forehead once before grabbing her hand again, squeezing it, and pulling her out the other door.
At least, he tried. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, it was as if he’d slammed into a brick wall. “What the hell?”
George was standing in the living room with a smirk on his face and pointing above Fred’s head. Fred’s eyes rose to the doorframe, where he was met with the same sprig of mistletoe he’d insisted on hanging up earlier.
“Aw, shit. Got a free ten seconds, love?”
“For you? Guess I can manage.”