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Summary
“Hermione Granger, you and I know full well I speak my honest thoughts with or without a drink in me.” He took a step towards her and suddenly seemed close enough for her to count the freckles on his face. “I’ll have you know that even if I didn’t have a firewhiskey in me right now, I’d still tell you that you’re the most beautiful, enchanting, intelligent woman at this entire gala. I’d tell you that I’ve wanted you since I was in 7th year, and I’ve had to restrain myself from begging on bent knees for your attention, out of respect for my younger brother.”
Hermione felt her chest flush with heat, realizing that what lay in Fred’s intense gaze was lust and reverence as he tilted his head to study her.
“However, given that, one, my brother is a complete idiot who cocked up the one good thing he’s had in his miserable life, and, two, you’re looking at me like you might want me back…”
A pause ensued before Fred surged towards her, taking Hermione’s face in both hands as he crushed his lips against hers.