Chapter Text
Hermione was in her third year when she started to see Fred Weasley differently. He was funny, very obviously smart, and she couldn’t deny that he was very attractive. And though she’d never admit it aloud, she absolutely adored his air of mischief. Yes, him and George were alike in almost every way possible, but there was just something about Fred Weasley.
More and more often, Hermione found herself dreaming of red hair, brown eyes, and freckles. She was almost embarrassed by it, though she had no reason to be.”
For months on end Hermione would tell herself that this was Ron’s brother, and she couldn’t do that to her best friend. But then she’d tell herself that this was Ron’s brother, her best friend. He’d be happy for her, for them, then backtrack. It was just a silly little crush.
It’ll go away, Hermione would tell herself. But Fred was always there. She couldn’t say she minded, though. And when he wasn’t around, she’d find herself thinking of Fred, because how could she not?
Hermione was in her fourth year when she found herself in the common room alone with Fred. It was late into the night, and she was reading on the couch by the hearth, him at a table by a window. Little by little the common room emptied, with George and Lee Jordan the last to go before she was alone with Fred.
Hermione hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t alone until she heard a frustrated sigh, then a soft thud. She sat up from where she lay on the couch and looked around. Even from where she sat, she could tell it was Fred, whose head was laying on the table. How she knew it was Fred, for it could’ve easily been George, she hadn’t a clue.
Hesitantly, Hermione closed her book and got to her feet. Just a step or two away from him, she spoke quietly.
“Hey,” she said, stepping up beside him. Fred lifted his head and gave her a small smile that warmed her chest.
“Hey, Hermione. What’re you still doing up?”
“Just some light reading.” She held up that book she was holding, and Fred chucked at the not so light book. “What about you, what are you doing?”
She watched as a dark look came over Fred, his jaw clenching. “Remember all that gold Bagman gave George and I at the World Cup?” Hermione nodded. “It was all leprechaun gold; disappeared the next day. We’ve been trying to contact him since, but he’s been ignoring us.”
“Oh, Fred,” Hermione said, genuinely hurt for him. “I am so sorry.”
He shook his head, sighing. Maybe for the first time, Hermione saw that he was sad. Fred was never sad. She watched as he closed in on himself, looking hurt. He looked so vulnerable. Slowly, she sat down.
“It’s whatever, ‘Mi.” Hermione’s heart gave an embarrassing flutter. She loved it when Fred called her that. She remembered when he had called her that for the first time, going on about he had come up with the nickname, dubbing it as ‘his’. Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell him that her parents already called her that. “George, Lee, and I are trying to come up with more stuff to sell to get our money back.” He gave her a small grin. “It’s hard having a business, you know?”
Hermione gave a small smile of her own. Again, Fred sighed.
“It gets discouraging sometimes, is all. Our own mum—” Fred stopped himself, but Hermione knew what he was thinking. She reached out and gently squeezed Fred’s arm.
“Well, Fred Weasley, I believe in you.”
His brown eyes met hers and for a moment they just looked at each other.
“Thanks, Hermione,” he said softly, breaking their gaze. Hermione pulled her arm away. “We should get to bed.”
She agreed and then they went on their way.
Hermione was just about to start her fifth year when she got hit in the face by one of Fred and George’s many inventions while staying at the Burrow that summer. She was more than glad that her and Harry, along with the rest of the Weasley’s, would be visiting Diagon Alley the next day; she knew they’d have something for her incoming bruise.
After walking around and buying things for the upcoming school year, they were finally on their way to the twin's new shop. Walking through the doors, Hermione was in awe. The shop was packed with witches and wizards of all ages. Hermione forgot about her black eye and was flooded with the urge to give Fred the biggest hug, because why not?
She didn’t spot the familiar head of red hair until a couple of minutes later. Hermione was with Ginny looking at the various items on the many different shelves when she finally did see him. She quickly excused herself, ignoring the knowing look on her friend’s face. As soon as she was close enough, Hermione tapped Fred on the shoulder to get his attention.
“Hermione!” He grinned upon seeing her, though it disappeared from his face as soon as it came. “What happened to your eye? Are you alright?”
“What? Oh,” Hermione said, remembering. “Some telescope thing you and George left back at the Burrow, I kinda got in its way.”
“Damn, ‘Mi, I’m sorry.” Fred was quick to pull out a small tube from his pocket, handing it to her. His hand brushed hers for just a second before he pulled his hand away. “Bruise paste, it should be gone in the next day or two.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, willing herself not to blush like a little school girl. Hermione took a moment to look around, then back at him. “You did it Freddie,” she said softly. “I knew you would.”
“Well, not just me,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah. Thanks for believing in me.” The smile Fred gave her warmed Hermione’s heart, and she felt it skip a beat.
“Hermione!” Ginny was walking up to them, pushing through the crowd. “Come on, we’ve got to go. Come say bye to mum and dad, Fred.”
“Alright, alright, let’s go.”
And a couple minutes later, Hermione was leaving, waving goodbye to Fred. She couldn’t wait until school started.
Hermione was officially in her fifth year, her first night back, when Dumbledore announced that Hogwarts would be having a Yule Ball that year. It was just after the sorting, and the Great Hall quickly broke out in excited whispers. The headmaster explained the rest of the details, stating that it would be held on Christmas Eve for the fourth years and above. Dumbledore said the famous words and food appeared in front of everyone. Ginny turned toward Hermione, excitement written all over her face.
“A ball, Hermione,” she practically screamed. “Merlin, a ball!”
“A ball,” Hermione nodded.
“A ball!” Ginny did actually scream that time, but no one noticed. Everyone else was so wrapped up in their conversation, their own shrieks of excitement echoing through the hall. “Oh, can you believe it? I’m so excited!”
“Me too, Ginny,” Hermione laughed. She really was excited.
Ginny gasped loudly beside her. “Merlin, I wonder who’s gonna ask us to the ball!” Hermione had forgotten about that part. Ginny grinned beside her, “He’s looking at you.”
Fast enough to give herself whiplash, Hermione turned her head in the direction of Fred. He was laughing with Lee Jordan, teasing George about something. She looked away, flushing a bright red, and stared at the plate in front of her.
“I don’t know who you mean.”
Ginny groaned. “Admit it already, ‘Mi. I’m literally your best friend.”
“Whatever, Ginny,” Hermione sighed. “I doubt he feels the same way.”
“We, Hermione Granger, are going to officially be sisters one day. Mark my words.”
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “So, what,” she grinned, “does that mean I’ll be related to Draco one of these days?”
It was Ginny’s turn to flush red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes shifted toward the Slytherin table as she shook her head. Ginny didn’t notice that Draco looked at her just as soon as she looked away.
__________
Hermione was sitting in the Great Hall for study hall when she heard her name whispered from beside her. She looked up from the essay she was writing to look at Ron.
“What is it?”
Ron seemed to hesitate before speaking. “Well... you’re a girl.”
Hermione gave him a long look before answering. “Yes, Ron.”
“Right, right.” His cheeks started to turn a light shade of pink. “Right. Well, um, I guess what I meant to say, o-or ask, was if you wanted to go to the ball with me?”
It was already pretty late into November, and Hermione still didn’t have a date. Again, she gave Ron a long look, an amused smile on her face. “Really?”
Ron brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “W-well, yeah. I feel like everyone’s got a date but us, so I thought we could go as friends.”
As he said that, his eyes flickered toward the Slytherin table. Hermione had to stop herself from sighing upon following his gaze. He was looking at Pansy Parkinson in all her regal glory, because of course he was. He’d been crushing on her since they were thirteen.
“Honestly? I’d say yes, Ron, if you didn’t wish I was someone else.” She gave him a pointed look, but he just shook his head.
“No, Hermione, she’d never say yes.”
“Don’t be stupid, Ron.” She gave a slight tilt of her head in Pansy’s direction. They both looked to see her already looking at them, giving Ron a small smile before turning away. “Just ask her, Ron.”
“But what if—”
“Ask her, Ron.”
Ron gave her a conflicted look, then slowly nodded. “Okay. What about you, then?”
Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. “Me? Well, I just finished my Transfiguration essay, so I will see you later, Ron.” And she gathered her things, got up and walked away with a small smile on her face.
She was almost at Gryffindor tower when she heard her name being called. Hermione turned around to see Fred and smiled brightly at him as he came up to her.
“Hey, Fred!”
“Mind if I walk with you?”
“Not at all. What’ve you been up to lately?” Hermione hadn’t really been able to talk to Fred as much as usual. She was swamped with schoolwork and studying for her O.W.L.s.
“Not much. I probably should be getting more studying in for the N.E.W.T.s, but I think I’ll be alright.” Hermione chuckled, agreeing with him. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh? What’s wrong?”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong.”
Hermione noticed that he seemed nervous. “Okay.” She said, dragging out the word.
Fred stuffed his hands into his pockets, glancing at the wall like it had personally offended him. “So, you know… this ball thing.”
Hermione nodded, her heartbeat ticking up.
“Well, I was thinking,” he said casually, but his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. “Since it’s only for fourth years and up, that automatically disqualifies most of the people I’d normally ask—”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, real shame. Can’t take Peeves, and McGonagall said she’s washing her hair.” He grinned at her sideways.
Hermione snorted, biting back a smile. “Tragic.”
“Exactly. So that left me wondering… maybe I should ask someone brilliant. Someone who can pronounce Wingardium Leviosa without spraining their tongue. Someone who’s brave enough to punch Malfoy and kind enough to help George with his homework even when he pretends he doesn’t need it.”
Hermione blinked at him. “That’s oddly specific.”
“I know, right?” Fred took a half step closer. “So what do you say, Hermione? Want to go to the Yule Ball… and pretend not to be completely captivated by me all evening?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Her brain was shouting say yes say yes say YES, but her mouth decided on something infinitely more awkward:
“As friends.”
Fred blinked.
Hermione froze. “I mean—uh—I didn’t mean that like—unless you did, which is fine! I just—because we’re friends, and I’d like to go with you, and that would be very nice, as friends—”
Fred raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “So, just to be clear... you’re saying yes?”
She pressed her lips together, mortified. “Yes.”
“Brilliant.” He grinned, walking backward a few steps, still watching her. “Can’t wait to friend-dance the night away.”
Hermione groaned and hid her face in her hands as he turned the corner.
Behind her fingers, she was smiling.