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April 2, 1994
Being sixteen would change his life, Fred knew. The leaves had said so.
Or, to be more precise, Fred had decided it was what the weird shape at the bottom of his teacup meant. Trelawney hadn’t cared to check his work and had simply nodded at his words, which as far as Fred was concerned meant he was right. Who needed actual prophecies delivered by professionals when self-fulfilling ones existed anyway?
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the twenty-four hours since he turned sixteen, but he had time. There were still three hundred and sixty-four days before his next birthday. Patient as ever, Fred was willing to give the universe twenty days to act on his interpretation of the leaves.
He was at the bottom of the grand staircase, on his way to dinner, when a late birthday gift walked through the entrance hall in the form of the Malfoy brat covering his nose with his hands, screaming words that would have made his mother blush as Crabble and Goyle ushered him towards the staircase leading to the dungeons. Groups of students were observing the scene and whispering to each other as if they had known the Slytherin was coming and had waited in front of the great hall to witness the scene.
Only their tall frames allowed the twins to pass through the gossiping crowd to join the Gryffindor table where Lee, Angelina, and Alicia were waiting for them, mischievous smirks plastered on their faces.
“You’ll never guess what happened!” Alicia declared excitedly as soon as they reached their friends.
“Anything to do with the Slytherin Princess out there?” George offered, only half interested.
“You know Sean Miller from Ravenclaw, right? Well, he and Emily Owens were on the wooden bridge earlier and ─”
“On the wooden bridge?” Fred intervened. “Isn’t she dating someone else? Matthew something from Hufflepuff?”
“She’s been cheating on him for weeks,” Angie dismissed with a gesture of her hand. “That’s old news.”
“What’s new is that they saw Malfoy getting punched in the nose,” completed Alicia, who was almost bouncing with excitement in her seat at this point. “They said there was blood and everything!”
Fred barked a laugh, Malfoy’s attitude suddenly making sense.
“Did he start a fight with a fairy this time?” chuckled George next to him. “Already tired of taking Hippogriffs to court?”
“Mate, that’s the best part,” smirked Lee as he leaned closer to them, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. “They say Granger punched him!”
This time, George laughed. Fred, on his part, was too stunned to even blink.
“Granger? As in Hermione Granger? Scary-smart, tons of hair, always a book in her hands Granger?”
“How many Granger do we know?”
“Good for her,” George nodded in approval. “I hope she broke his nose.”
Fred was still stunned. How could someone as careful and hell-bent on following the rules -and most of all, small - as Hermione Granger punch someone? He tried to picture her in his head, and nothing came close to someone violent. Hermione, going full healer mode anytime she saw as much as a splinter in his brother’s hand. Hermione, falling asleep almost every evening curled up on an armchair because not even tiredness could deter her from trying to finish a book. Hermione making the brightest smile he’d ever seen when her friends saved her a part of shepherd's pie because they remembered it was her favorite.
The image of Malfoy bleeding and cursing became even more hilarious when superposed with those images of the little lioness.
“I think I’m in love.”
Every head turned towards him as silence settled on the group. As if nothing had happened, Fred started pilling up food on his plate,
“You’re in love?” Alicia repeated eventually. “With Hermione Granger?”
Fred shrugged, unable to see what was so weird with what he had said.
“Do you know how many times I thought about punching the little fuck? Now that she beat me to it, the least I can do is declare my undying love to her.”
A loud snort left George and the mood seemed to lighten again.
“That’s as good as any other reason to love someone, I suppose,” mused Lee with a twinkle in his eyes. “Do invite me to the wedding.”
“Oh, I will,” Fred played along. “And it will be the most beautiful wedding you’ll ever be invited to.”
~~~
March 7, 1995
“A plain but ambitious girl,” Alicia read aloud, a frown forming on her face. “Skeeter really did Hermione dirty on this one.”
“Alicia,” scolded Angie as her eyes darted toward the end of the table. “She’s right there!”
Fred followed the direction of his friend’s gaze, his eyes landing on the girl who was at the center of Hogwarts’ rumor mill. She was eating her breakfast, composed as ever, as Ron and Harry were leaning over this morning’s newspaper and whispering to each other. Next to her, Ginny was angrily shoving toasts in her mouth, the only indicator that they had seen Rita Skeeter’s latest hackwork.
“She doesn’t seem to care,” noted Lee who sported the same frown Alicia did.
“Knowing her, she probably doesn’t.”
Fred scoffed at that, knowing it was true. He didn’t want her to feel bad over a bunch of lies, of course, but her not caring and allowing people to badmouth her felt wrong.
“Yes, well. She doesn’t need to care for us to give some feedback to Parkinson for her contribution to the article. Accusing a kid of using a love potion was really over the line.”
“What sort of feedback are you thinking about?” Angie asked, though her smirk made clear she already knew the answer.
“I’m thinking dungbombs in her trunk when she leaves for the Easter break,” offered George.
“A buzzcut might work better for this one,” countered Lee darkly.
“We have time to brainstorm,” reminded Fred absentmindedly, his eyes back on Hermione who was now getting visibly annoyed with his little brother.
Fred hadn’t even noticed he was up and walking when he arrived at Hermione’s level. Ron was getting red in the face, a sure sign of an upcoming fight, and Harry was staring between the two, seemingly lost, as he usually was when his two best friends fought.
“She’s making you look bad, Mione,” Ron was arguing. “Like some… some scarlet woman or something!”
“It doesn’t matter,” sighed Hermione. “The people I’m close to know the truth, starting with the fact I’d never date Harry.”
“Well, right back at you!” scoffed Harry who had apparently forgotten all about impartiality. He quickly faltered at the sight of Hermione’s raised eyebrow. “I mean… Not that you’re not… You’re just… It’d be weird.”
Hermione nodded with a satisfied smile, but Ron wasn’t finished.
“Not everyone knows that! The other people ─”
“Who cares about the other people?” Hermione interrupted. “I certainly don’t.”
There was a challenge in her voice, one Fred wasn’t willing to see Ron rise up to.
“And that is very admirable of you.” He complimented, his smile widening when Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. “Though I dare say some of our classmates might not get the memo. Of course, us Weasley twins are always here to help. We could calm down the rumors, maybe even act as your loyal knights if someone decides to confront you about it.”
“For a price, I assume?”
Hermione’s snarky answer only fueled Fred’s amusement and his gestures became more dramatic as he gasped theatrically.
“A wound to our chivalrous reputation! I can feel my heart break apart as I speak! To think an offer to a dear, dear friend of our family would be anything but genuine!”
His smile became wolfish as Hermione rolled her eyes, poorly hiding a small smile. He continued.
“Of course, friends do each other favors and who wouldn’t be interested in an opportunity to pick at your brain? Say, for a small independant project involving people turning into birds with some sweets?”
“Of course,” Hermione drawled as her friends cackled. “Your disinterested generosity melts my heart, truly, but I won’t need your services. Everyone will have forgotten about it by tomorrow, you’ll see.”
Fred was forced to take a step back as Hermione rose from her seat and swung her bag over her shoulder, abandoning the eggs she had been playing around with while they talked.
“And now my brain and I will go to the library to return a few books before charms.”
He let her go without another word, too busy watching her leave to notice his sister’s raised eyebrow. What he did notice, however, were the questioning glances his friends were throwing at him when he came back to them.
“So?”
“So,” he let out with a sigh, “she doesn’t care. She thinks it’ll be forgotten by tomorrow morning.”
“It came out in Witch Weekly, it’s not just children’s gossip.”
Angie was right, but there wasn’t much to do as long as Hermione refused their help.
“She’s a feisty one, that girl,” reminded Alicia. “She can handle a bit of bitching.”
“A true Gryffindor,” agreed George. “Maybe she’ll be the one giving Parkinson a buzzcut.”
“That, I would pay to see!”
Lee’s laugh spread to the rest of the group, so much so that no one noticed Fred putting his elbows on the table to support his head with his hands in the perfect image of a daydreaming idiot.
“She was talking about not caring about other people’s opinions,” he let out with a loud sigh. “She’s so fearless, and just a bit delusional too. I think I’m in love.”
“Oh, that again?” Angie snorted as everyone erupted in laughter.
“What can I say?” smiled Fred. “I’m a sucker for strong witches.”
“Your strong witch better not hear you joke about loving her, though. You might end up with a few stitches,” George warned, his tone teasing.
Fred laughed it off, the loud sound making a few people turn their heads in his direction. Hermione was his friend. Sort of. She knew him well enough to not get offended by him complimenting her through mock declarations of love.
At least, he hoped so.
~~~
February 9, 1996
Umbridge was a bitch.
Fred had already come to this conclusion many times since the start of the year, but the burning sensation on the back of his hand naturally brought it back to the front of his mind.
“I can’t wait to be out of this school,” George was muttering next to him.
Turning his way, Fred saw him rub the back of his own hand in an attempt to numb the pain, though he only managed to spread the blood and, by the look of it, hurt himself some more. Fred didn’t comment on it, choosing instead to think about the grand escape they had planned.
Their mother would be mad, that was for sure, but everything was almost ready. They had the building, their permit to sell some of their more explosive products would soon be delivered by the Ministry, and most students were already clients of their business. What would they need their N.E.W.T.S for, once they were out there? The only thing they needed was a little time to stock their shelves and a good advertising campaign.
Fred wanted to leave surprise samples everywhere in the castle for the students to find -and be tricked by-. George was more traditional and was thinking of a fireworks display during the exams. Fred liked fireworks, but wasn’t sure about the exams. While the two of them might not care, some students did and worked hard to be ready.
The image of Hermione speed-walking towards the library, arms filled with books and reminding everyone that exams were right around the corner came to his mind, making the corner of his lips twitch in an effort not to smile. Hermione was in her O.W.L.S year, and she had already been working for months for these exams. She wouldn’t like her exams being interrupted by fireworks. She might even get mad. Hermione was beautiful when she was mad. Still, he liked it better when he could watch her be mad at people that weren’t him. She put the fear of Merlin in people she was mad at, and Fred had never been good at multitasking. Admiring her reddened cheeks and the way her hair cracked with magic was hard to do when he was already busy trying to convince her not to hex him. She had never actually threatened to and probably never would, but you never knew. Their little fight club sessions had been enough to confirm what everyone already knew, Hermione was a powerful witch that shouldn’t be messed with.
The sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor woke him up from his thoughts.
“What are you two doing here? Have you ever heard about curfew?”
As if summoned by his thoughts, Hermione had materialised in front of him. They both hid their hands as fast as they could, in a silent understanding that she of all people didn’t have to know.
“Curfew?” George acted as if he had never heard the word.
“Curfew, George,” Fred nodded before Hermione could answer. “It’s that weird muggle animal we heard about last year. Orange fur, yellow whisker, walks on two feets and speaks for the trees.”
George snapped his fingers, as if suddenly remembering.
“Ah, yes! Curfew!”
“That’s not an animal, it’s a character from a children’s book,” informed Hermione with a roll of her eyes. “The Lorax by Dr. Seuss.”
“Is it?” Fred wondered. “Well then I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re refering to by ‘curfew’”.
“A rule that states students are to stay in their common room at night,” huffed Hermione. She wasn’t deducting points yet, knowing nothing would put a stop to their nightly wanderings. “Though I guess you’ve never tried to learn about rules.”
“She knows us so well,” crooned George.
Fred took the opportunity of her turning her head to look at George to throw the arm attached to his uninjured hand around her shoulders, trapping her against him and making her turn on her heels to walk in the direction of Gryffindor tower.
“Unfortunatly, prior engagements prevented us from being in the common room earlier, but maybe a prefect such as yourself could walk us back?”
“Since when do you need prefects to walk you anywhere?”
“Why, Hermione, it is night time and we are but mere students. Who knows what could happen in the dark?”
On the other side of her, George bended his head to get closer to her ear and whispered in a tone falsely afraid.
“I heard there were ghosts in this castle!”
Hermione snorted loudly at that and George straightened back up, satisfied.
“You two are ridiculous,” she chuckled with a shake of her head. Her head suddenly snapped back and turned towards him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait, what prior engagements? Detention?”
She didn’t wait for an answer and turned to the hand that was hanging from her shoulder, grabbing it and bringing it closer to her fec to inspect it. Above her head, the twin exchanged an uneasy glance.
“I know I have beautiful hands, Granger, but what ─”
“Show me the other one,” she demanded in her practiced no-nonsense tone.
Tentatively, Fred rose the hand he had hidden in his pocket, presenting his palm to her. Carefully, in a way he had only seen her act when handling particularly ancient books, she turned his hand, revealing the mess left by Umbridge. Old scars and fresher ones were merged together, partially hidden by the drying blood he hadn’t washed off yet.
“Oh, Fred.”
The sadness of the entire world was contained in those two words, and it shouldn’t have made him so happy to get such a reaction out of her. Any hapiness was short-lived, as her sadness turned into fury and her eyes turned murderous.
“That bitch!”
Hearing Hermione swear was a new experience for him, and he was too stunned to react when she grabbed his arm. George didn’t react either when she grabbed him and walked faster than ever, pulling them both behind her towards their common room.
The password was angrily muttered, and she made them seat in the couch closer to the fireplace, the only source of light in the deserted room, and disappeared, only to come back less than a minute later with her arms filled with equipment. Without a word, she cleaned his hand of the blood, disinfected it and applied essence of murlap, her gestures softer than ever. She didn’t have to ask for George’s hand when she turned towards him, his twin was smart enough to offer it without a protest.
“Maybe…”she started in a small voice when she was done. “Maybe try not to anger her anymore.”
“That’s not how we do things,” George let out with a sigh. “We can handle her.”
“You handling her is getting you hurt while she’s still out there having the time of her life!” snapped Hermione.
“She won’t be out there forever,” Fred offered.
Hermione snorted at that, her eyes burning with something he couldn’t quite understand.
“No, she won’t be.”
With that, she was back on her feet and walking towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. She hesitated at the door, seemed to debate with herself and finally looked back at them.
“Just try not to get any more injuries than you absolutly have to. Being known as one-handed twins won’t get you any more clients.”
The door closed behind her as George barked out a laugh.
“Joking about something like that…” The smile on Fred’s face was full of admiration. “Sweet and funny. I think I’m in love.”
Whoever she would end up with would be one lucky bloke.
The thought made him frown. Aside from Krum, whom she had made clear was just a friend, he had no memory of her being around boys. He didn’t like the idea of her ever being. None of the boys in that school deserved her. She was too sweet, too smart, too passionate for any of them.
As far as passion went, he could match her. He could be sweet too, if he put his mind to it. It was too late for him to get any smarter, but two out of three was good enough, right?
And why was he even thinking about that?
The realisation hit him like a bludger.
“Georgie! I am in love with her!”
“Well, yeah,” his twin snorted. “I could have told you that.”
Fred turned his head so fast his vision became blurry for a second.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh please, I’m not blind and you’re as subtle as a troll.”
George took a high-pitched voice that didn’t sound anything like Fred’s as his hands cupped his face in a ridiculous imitation of lovesick teenage girls.
“Oh Hermione, let me carry those books for you.”
His hand went to his heart, his face hopeful.
“Hermione, do you want to partner up with me today?”
His hand went back to his chin to stroke an imaginary beard.
“We could ask the elves what food is going to the part of the table were Hermione usually sits and only have fun with the rest. It’s gonna take her hours to get all that glitter off of her.”
“Oh shut up,” Fred grumbled, but his brother wasn’t done.
“Last night, I dreamed I had six kids, all red-heads who walked around with books heavier than they were in their arms and I never slept better!”
“Oi, I never said that!” Fred protested.
He jumped on his twin, who saw him coming and rolled them over, making them fall in a loud mess of laughter and insults. By the time they were done, Fred was exhausted and still nowhere closer to a solution to his Hermione problem.
“We’re going to be at the shop and she’ll be here. For two years!”
“Oh; so now you want to stay in school?”
“What? No!”
George shrugged, unable to understand what the point of this discussion was. He was right, in a way. Hermione would never be convinced to leave school early and he had no way to stay here after the end of the school year, didn’t want to either.
“You’ll move on,” George eventually offered. “There’s plenty of great girls who are already done with school.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fred scoffed, his mind already made up on the matter. “I’m going to marry that girl.”
If George didn’t believe him, he was smart enough to not say anything. Of all the Weasley siblings, Fred was the stubborn one, which was incredible considering how pig-headed his siblings were. Fred had made up his mind, and there was no changing it now. All he had to do was inform Hermione of his decision.
~~~
August 1, 1997
Fred hadn’t informed Hermione of his decision to marry her. He had yet to inform her of anything, really. They had barely seen each other since he had left Hogwarts, and each time he had been too busy enjoying her presence and wondering when the next time he would see her would be to talk about anything serious.
Which wasn’t to say he had changed his mind. The year away from her had given him plenty of time to daydream about her being his girlfriend, the way his would ask her out, then propose, every little detail of their wedding day and the house he would buy for her. She would become a lawyer, or a professor, or the Minister for Magic, and he’d be here every night when she came home from work, her favorite meals and a warm bath filled with rose petals waiting for her. He wasn’t a good cook -his mother had actually called him a disaster in the kitchen, which was a little harsh considering how hard he was trying- but that was what take-out was for.
Her being invited to Bill’s wedding was actually perfect. It allowed him to see how the shade of silver Fleur had picked out for the decorations made Hermione’s skin look paller than ever and damn that red dress. Fred had decided there would be red at their wedding the minute she stepped in the Burrow that morning wearing that dress.
He wasn’t even listening to George and Charlie, too busy watching her dance with one of their many cousins and imagining all the way he would hurt him if his hand went just a little lower on her back.
“Right, Freddy?” His twin’s voice pierced through his daydream.
Fred simply nodded in answer, not even turning his eyes away from his witch to pretend being involved in the conversation. Charlie waved a hand in front of eyes, blocking the vision of Hermione’s skirt rising when she twirled and effectively prompting him to look at his brothers.
“What has gotten into you?”
“It’s not a what as much as a who,” revealed George to their older brother. “Freddy has a little crush on miss Granger over there.”
“I don’t have a little crush,” denied Fred in a petulant voice. “I’m in love with her.”
Charlie looked incredulous as his eyes went back and forth from Fred to Hermione.
“Ron’s best friend?”
Fred shrugged, not seeing what her friendship with his little brother had to do with his feelings for her.
“You’re dating Ron’s best friend?”
“Merlin, no,” George laughed. “He started joking about being in love with her after she punched a guy a few years back, decided he was serious about her at some point during seventh year, has barely talked to her since and still thinks he’s going to marry her.”
“We exchanged letters this year.”
“You sent her warnings about new shop products and she answered with a list of all the products she had confiscated.”
It wasn’t the entire truth, but none of his brothers needed to know that. He had wrote her news of his family and the shop, and she had sent news of her own. A lot of it was about her classes, or about how his brother being an idiot, Lavender Brown being a bitch in the dorm and no, she wouldn’t hide paint bombs in the curtains of her bed. Still, it was news, and he had fun trying to come up with ways for her to come back at everyone who annoyed her. If anything, he knew some of his ideas made her laugh.
“I see,” Charlie claimed, though Fred wasn’t sure what it was exactly his brother thought he could see.
When he looked her way, she had changed dance partner, and Fred watched to make sure the blond idiot wouldn’t try anything funny.
“Would you stop doing that?”
George shook his shoulder to get his attention back.
“She’s not going anywhere, stop being weird. For all you know, she might just answer your letters out of politeness.”
“You boys are either stupid or blind. Maybe both.”
Fred groaned as Ginny’s voice reached his ears. He didn’t want any more people to know about Hermione, least of all one of her best friend.
“If you’re here to tell me Hermione isn’t interested and that I should move on, get in line,” he grumbled.
“There’s a line because you hang out with idiots,” Ginny quipped. “She’s interested.”
Talking with Hermione’s best friend was a wonderful idea. His lips stretched into a smile so wide his cheeks started hurting, and he didn’t care.
“She is?”
He didn’t care about how pathetically hopeful his voice sounded either, nor about the way George rolled his eyes and Charlie smirked. He would get shit about it later, but that was a problem for future him. What did Charlie knew anyway? He had been obsessed with his dragons for so long there was probably a picture of him in the dictionnary next to the word ‘celibacy’.
“She came to your shop multiple times,” Ginny reminded him. “A loud, messy shop that’s always filled with people. That’s basically everything Hermione hates and she still came and talked to you every time we went to Diagon Alley. She send you more letters than she sends her own parents and she hasn’t stopped looking at you since you showed up in that stupid suit.”
The mental image of their future home came back in full force. There would be a huge fireplace in the living room, red curtains and a couch big enough for the two of them to lie on it comfortably to watch muggles movies. George, as usual, broke his bubble of happiness.
“Wait, how do you know about Freddy’s crush on Hermione?”
It was hard not to feel insulted by Ginny’s answering laugh. She had brought it great news though, so he wouldn’t protest.
“Name one person besides Hermione who doesn’t know,” Ginny challenged her brother. “She’s so oblivious it’s almost painful to hear.”
Her voice became high pitched, in a way Fred started to think was a family trait, as she pretended to be Hermione.
“I’m just his brother’s and sister’s best friend. And he’s so awesome, he probably has tons of witches lining up to date him!”
“She thinks I’m awesome?”
“She also thinks you’re a man-whore,” noted Charlie.
Fred barely heard him. Hermione liked him back! He did a lot more than like her, but she would get there too eventually. In his mind, he was debating between interrupting Hermione’s dance to talk with her and simply use a sonorus to announce their upcoming nuptials.
He didn’t get to do either, as a patronus suddenly appeared out of nowhere and announced the fall of the Ministry.
Hermione grabbed his brother and Harry and disappeared, leaving him behind without any idea of where she was going and when he’d see her again.
~~~
May 2, 1998
“ You’re joking Perce!” shouted Fred. “You actually are joking, Perce…I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-”
Fred’s words were cut off by the feeling of a spell passing right behind his back, sending a shiver down his spine.
One second Fred was fighting, the next he opened his eyes and realised he was on the ground, surrounded by clouds of dust.
Somewhere next to him, someone he suspected to be Percy was screaming his name, or something that sounded like it, his brother’s voice distorted by the ringing in Fred’s ears. It took him a minute to understand that the mass of color above him was actually Percy, and as his vision became less blurry, so did his other senses. There were hands holding his head -probably Percy’s too- and a strange pain in leg.
Percy’s word grew more agitated by the seconds, intensifying the ringing in Fred’s ears.
“Will you shut up?” He finally groaned.
It took a minute for Percy to calm down, and a few more for him to get Fred in a seated position. From where he was, Fred could see the portion of wall that crumble, and the arm that sticked out from under the rubble. And arm covered in the black cloak of Death Eaters.
He was about to try to get on his feet when a new voice reached his ears, one he found way less painful to hear than Percy’s, maybe because of the witch this voice belonged to, or maybe because the ringing in his ears was finally disappearing.
“Are you alright?”
She looked magnificent.
A bit awful, too. She was covered in dust and sweat, paler than a ghost, with big dark circles under her eyes. One of her sleeves was drenched in blood, and the lack of hole in the material told him a wound that was already there before the battle had reopened. She looked frail, too. Her clothes were hanging loosely around her, and it seems to Fred as if a gust of wind would be enough to break her.
But she was alive, walking and talking, and that was everything Fred had hoped for for the past year. How ridiculous was it, to be so happy in the middle of a battle that almost took his life?
“I think he broke his leg,” Percy was saying.
Hermione immediately jumped into action, pushing the fabric of his jeans up to his knee and casting spells. She was so close to him, and why did his brother have to be there too?
“Hey,” he eventually adressed Hermione.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his and a small smile stretched her lips.
“Hey,” she answered almost shily.
“He was out of it earlier, he might have hit his head too.”
Percy was interrupting again, and Hermione nodded at him before casting a few more spell.
“His leg is broken,” she informed Percy. “I did what I could for the pain, but I can’t do anything for the bone without Skele-Gro. Maybe we could find something to transfigure into a wheel-chair, but he can’t put any weight on his leg for now.”
“And his head?”
“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Fred interrupted, his eyes firmly on Hermione.
“What?”
“Dinner? Like, a dinner date. Or a something-else-date. We could go to a bookstore and I could watch you browse and carry your books.”
“Nevermind,” huffed Percy behind him. “He’s fine.”
“You’re asking me out on a date?” Hermione looked incredulous. “Right now?”
“I’m asking you right now to go on a date later,” clarified Fred. “Tomorrow, ideally. I guess the day after would be fine, too.”
Hermione’s smile was bliding.
“Sure. Tomorrow works for me.”
Fred couldn’t see his own smile, but he could feel his cheeks hurting and that was fine with him. He could ear gag noises too, and turned his head, only to realise Ron and Harry had been with Hermione when she had arrived.
“If you don’t mind, there’s a war going on,” reminded Ron with a sneer.
Hermione rolled her eyes but rose to her feet nonetheless.
“Wait, Hermione!” Fred called back. "Come back for a second."
Her eyes looked over his leg, looking for anything she might have missed earlier. Without giving himself time to think, he cupped her jaw and brought her close enough to kiss her.
His lips only pressed against hers for a few seconds before another round of protest left Harry and Ron, prompting him to let her go.
“Just in case something happens,” Fred whispered against her lips, his eyes searching hers for a sign of unease.
She only smiled, a sad smile that brough tears to her lips, and pressed her lips against his.
“Just in case something happens,” she repeated before getting back on her feet and walking away from him.
He watched her retreating form as a bittersweet feeling exploded in his chest.
“Smooth,” commented Percy in his usual dry tone.
Fred laughed at that, a good, real laugh that made Hermione’s form pause at the top of the staircase where Ron and Harry had disappeared a second before.
“Fuck off,” Fred answered his brother, feeling to exhausted to consider doing more.
Hermione was moving again, and disappeared in the staircase.
It was alright. He wouldn’t have to wait another year. She would win this war, and tomorrow they would go on a date.
He had never been more in love with her than he was at the moment.