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A Gryffindor party, a prototype lust potion, and Hermione Granger trying very hard not to think about Fred Weasley in ways she shouldn’t. Too bad the magic had other plans.
“S’that what you meant, ‘Mione?” He breathed. “Did you mean me?”
She shivered. Everything in her screamed to pull him closer.
“...Yes,” she whispered.
Fred exhaled like he’d been holding it the whole time. And then, finally, he touched her—just his fingers brushing her wrist—but it was enough to ignite everything again. -
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