Work Text:
Fred Weasley had loved Hermione Granger almost from the moment he saw her. Admittedly, he didn’t know it was love back then. He just felt an intense need to protect her and make sure she was happy, and that evolved over the years.
The first time he gave her flowers for her birthday was in her fifth year. Watching his brother make her cry and Viktor Krum pant after her had woken him up that this was significantly more than friendship. It was long past time to show her.
He didn’t know what witches liked, but he found a dusty book on the language of flowers at the Burrow and thought Hermione deserved something pretty. And maybe he could construct a message from them.
He flipped through and found a page on daffodils—the flower of unrequited love. And he found out her birth flower was a morning glory, which signified perseverance, affection, and love in vain. Fred would persevere, even if he could just love her from afar.
So Fred, using funds from last year's betting pool on the Triwizard Tournament, paid a florist in Hogsmede to put together a bouquet of daffodils, morning glory, and French Lilac. The florist had smiled at the meaning she’d pieced together. Honestly, Fred hadn’t really picked the French Lilac for anything other than that it was pretty and Hermione loved visiting France with her parents in the summer. But it signifying first love was a nice bonus.
Sneaking out of the castle that early in the school year was a challenge, especially since he didn’t have the Marauders Map anymore. But risking detention—twice—was worth it for her reaction. He gave the bouquet to her with a quick kiss to her cheek in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione blushed prettily and thanked him with a long hug. George met his eyes over the little witch’s shoulder and knew instantly—damn that twin bond—that Fred had more than a fascination or a crush.
Fred tried a lot that year to get Hermione’s attention. He gave her a meaningful look when he signed the parchment for Dumbledore’s Army. He purposefully pitched and sold the Skiving Snackboxes in front of her so she’d pull him aside to scold him. And when he and George had decided they’d had enough of Hogwarts, he winked at her before flying off on his broom, fireworks exploding behind him.
Sure, he earned himself some stolen moments of her time, but nothing had felt different when she’d joined them at Christmas or over the summer holidays. Hermione still only had eyes for Ron and Fred decided to be a good brother and give them space to figure it out.
—
Fred had remained firm in his stance to not pursue Hermione. Even when she lingered around love potions in his store and he teased her about her crush on his brother. It has been hard not to yell that he was here and willing. No potion or convincing required. But her eyes had been fixed on Ron flirting with Lavender Brown.
As much as Fred wanted her, he didn’t want to be the second choice. He needed her to figure out what she wanted—and for that to be him. He was willing to wait until she made that choice and he’d continue to hold a torch for this girl no matter how long it took.
Her birthday approached and Fred returned to that same florist, now with a larger amount to spend thanks to the success of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He kept the daffodils and the morning glory, liking the consistency of those two. It would be his own calling card considering he’d have to owl the bouquet to her this year.
He had done his research this year though and selected gardenias to round out the bouquet. Gardenias—a note in her perfume and a symbol of secret love. His feelings for Hermione were certainly a secret from most people and most definitely from her. And the idea that she might notice that he paid enough attention to her that he would identify the scent of perfume was a bonus. Maybe this year, she’d piece it together and shift her focus to another Weasley.
Hermione had owled him back a lengthy thank you and an offhand comment about Ron forgetting her birthday as he was too busy chasing Lavender Brown and trying to make the Quidditch team.
Fred fumed. His little brother had a catch pining for him and he didn’t even appreciate it. No, he treated Hermione like a given and discarded her whenever a better offer came along. He made her cry and didn’t bother to apologise for it.
He’d never make her cry if only he was given a chance.
—
Fred only missed one year for flowers. The year they were on the run and fighting a war. Even then, Fred purchased daffodils and morning glories for himself. A reminder of her and a hope that she was well on her birthday. They were flowers bought with the hope that they would survive this war and have their chance.
They had both survived, but he was still waiting for that chance.
For a few years after the war, everyone was busy and in mourning, so Fred simplified his bouquets to just daffodils and morning glory. Besides, he’d come close to death himself and didn’t trust that he could be subtle if asked to pick something else to showcase his feelings.
Hermione went back to school and finally let her feelings toward Ron go while she explored other relationships. He wasn’t proud of it, but he kept tabs on the men in her life through Ginny and the media. At Hogwarts, she’d briefly dated Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw who’d also returned to complete his studies. It hadn’t lasted long, but she’d been with someone else when Fred sent her his customary birthday bouquet.
It was the first time he questioned his little tradition. Would it be considered inappropriate to send another man’s girlfriend flowers? At the end of the day, he didn’t care. If a simple flower arrangement was enough to end a relationship, then it wasn’t a relationship worth entertaining.
So he sent them and waited for his witch to send a thank you note.
—
The years after passed much the same. Hermione would be single for periods of time, but never around her birthday. Fred stood on the sidelines and watched as she reconnected with Viktor Krum. They dated for nearly a year before the distance and constant travel became too much.
McLaggen had the privilege of being in a short fling. Hermione cited his ridiculous ego as a reason for their break-up and demanded that they all speak up a bit more in the future.
She later regretted that when her next boyfriend was Draco Malfoy. Weasleys, Potters, and several other close friends had been quite vocal that their relationship was a mistake. But the Malfoy scion seemed to have turned a new leaf. Draco made amends and—most importantly to Fred—treated Hermione like a queen. A pleasant loving smile had graced her face for the two and half years the pair had been together.
Fred recognized that Hermione and Draco’s relationship was the most serious one she’d been in. And a relationship where she was happy.
Loved.
Worshipped.
For all Draco Malfoy’s faults, he ensured Hermione was supported in everything she was doing for magical creatures and their rights. He cared about her and was always there to make sure she took a break. He often dropped Hermione off at the Burrow for Sunday dinner after prying her away from her books and research so that she could have time with family.
Fred approached Hermione at her party—thrown by Draco himself and further proof that he knew what his witch liked. It was a small affair at his home ensuring privacy from the public. It was tasteful but not stuffy or pretentious. Fred conjured his bouquet—daffodil, morning glory, and anemone.
Hermione blushed the way she usually did when receiving attention. And smelled the flowers with a pleased smile on her face. “Thank you. They’re beautiful as always.”
She pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek and he fought against the urge to hold her close and ask her to do it again.
“Happy Birthday, Hermione.” They hugged and when she pulled away, Fred watched her look toward the shock of blond hair and smile fondly. “You look happy.”
Her smile only grew and she nodded. “Very happy.”
“Good.” Fred knew then he’d chosen his message perfectly this year. Sincerity. Because he was sincere in his love but also sincere in his desire for her to be happy and loved—even if not by him. “You deserve to be happy.”
And he left her party that night fully content to let her go. To put this feeling and foolish hope behind him. Could he love her like that? Absolutely. But Draco Malfoy had gotten their first and he needed to do the mature thing and be her friend.
Just her friend.
A month later, the pair split. Their break-up had been amicable and they still maintained a friendship. Neither of them spoke about why their relationship ended though.
—
Her most recent relationship was with another Slytherin Pureblood. Theo Nott. They’d all learned their lesson about questioning Hermione’s choices, so they’d asked a handful of questions about how they met, what he was like, and if she was happy and left it alone.
Fred sent her an arrangement of daffodils, morning glory, and camelia that year. They were adults now and Hermione needed to know that his feelings had shifted to now include desire. There would always be love and devotion…but his thoughts couldn’t be contained to innocent kisses and hugs anymore.
Quite the opposite. He fantasised about much more often than he should considering she was with another wizard.
Fred never pushed for more, though. Never. Even when she was single and they’d go out to dinner or meet for drinks. He flirted and hoped she’d get the hint after all these years. But Hermione still held him at arm's length. It was fine.
He valued her friendship and presence in his life more than he valued her body. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, so he put on a brave face and watched her be with someone else year after year after year.
Fred did have the niggling thought that maybe Hermione felt something for him, though. There were moments. And this year, she’d owled him first after breaking up with Theo to ask if he was around for a drink.
An offer that came just one day after his flowers had been delivered to her.
Nothing came of that night. Fred consoled her over the break-up and paid for her drinks. Hermione couldn’t hold her alcohol so, at the end of the night, he helped her home and tucked her into bed. He stroked her hair off her forehead, placing a kiss there.
Before he left the room, he conjured water, a hangover potion that he’d invented, and a single daffodil that he left on her bedside table.
—
Hermione had been single since Theo Nott. A period of almost eight months where she’d spent a great deal of time with Fred.
Not just Fred, but he felt like he’d seen her more than Harry or Ginny recently. They’d gotten dinner—just the two of them. They’d taken a short trip to France together. He needed to pick up ingredients for the store and Hermione had tagged along.
It felt like they were moving in a more romantic direction, but Hermione treated the same as she always had. Affectionate but nothing that could be considered too much between friends.
Fred was putting the final touches on his flower order, debating on whether to add lily of the valley or butterfly weed to the arrangement. It really was a choice between declaring his love to Hermione or asking her to let him go. Not that she would know that.
For nearly ten years, he’d sent this witch flowers and she’d never asked if they had meaning. Hermione Granger, who loved a research project, had never even glanced at a book on the language of flowers as far as he could tell.
It was frustrating, but he also felt a sense of relief that she didn’t know how long he’d loved and obsessed over her. How embarrassing that would have been for her to figure it out and tell him to stop.
An insistent pecking on his window interrupted his internal struggle. Fred sighed loudly and let the bird in, removing three sheets of parchment from its leg and directing it toward a bowl of treats.
It was only as it delicately perched on the edge of the bowl and pecked a few treats that he recognized Hermione’s owl. He quickly unravelled the parchment. He found two book pages.
Two book pages from The Language of Flowers.
The daffodil page and the tulip page.
On the tulip page, a thick line had been drawn under the meaning “declaration of love.” Fred quickly flipped to the last page of parchment and saw Hermione’s messy handwriting.
No more daffodils.
Fred dropped all three pieces of parchment on his desk and rushed to the floo, calling out her address. When the flames cleared, he strode quickly through her home, finding her milling about her kitchen.
“Did you mean it?” he asked, breathlessly.
She turned toward him, a slight smirk on her lips. “I did. I figured that a bold message needed to be sent unless you wanted to play this game for another year.”
He was across the kitchen in a flash, one hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss he’d be waiting for—longing for—for over a decade.
“Finally,” he whispered, barely giving them time to breathe. Hermione wound her arms around his beck and brought him back with a slight whimper. Fred moved his hands to her arse and thighs, hoisting her up. Hermione’s legs wrapped around his hips and he carried her blindly into the bedroom.
—
In the afterglow of round two, Hermione accio ’d a medium-sized antique jewellery box. The reddish-brown box was decorated with a magpie and an otter in gold paint. Hermione removed a handful of locking and protection charms before opening it.
Inside were nine shrunken, preserved bouquets.
His bouquets.
“So you knew the whole time?” he asked, delicately tracing the edge of the felt in the box.
She snuggled into his side. “Not the whole time. I finally looked up the meaning of daffodils a few years ago. I thought it might be a coincidence until I looked up the meaning of every flower in every bouquet. At that point, it seemed too intentional to ignore.”
Fred looked away from the embodiment of how long he’d loved her to meet her eyes. “So no more daffodils?”
“No more daffodils,” she declared, beaming up at him.