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The party shimmered with magic, both visible and unseen. Enchanted lanterns drifted lazily near the ceiling, glowing gold and blush as they pulsed in time with the music. Stardust spiralled gently through the air, dissolving before it touched the floor, while bursts of enchanted confetti flared overhead and vanished in soft sparks of harmless light. Someone had charmed the walls to echo faint traces of laughter, so that even the room's quiet corners felt alive with celebration. A Muggle record thundered from a corner, courtesy of Seamus, the rich music vibrating through the floorboards and rattling the windows just enough to give the entire house a sense of movement.
The air buzzed with excitement, magic, and emotion and in the centre of it all, Hermione Granger danced. She had abandoned decorum entirely, her curls flying loose around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright with laughter as she spun and twirled between Hannah and Parvati. Magic flickered faintly at her fingertips, leaving glowing trails in the air whenever she lifted her hands, while bursts of stardust seemed to follow in her wake, as though the enchantments in the room were drawn to her energy. Her joy was radiant, infectious, and so achingly beautiful that it made something twist painfully inside Fred Weasley’s chest.
He stood near the fireplace, his drink forgotten in his hand, watching her move. She was enchanting, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Every instinct screamed at him to cross the room, to pull her close, to kiss her senseless and remind himself that she was real, that she was his. Instead, he stayed where he was, posture relaxed, his muscles tight with restraint. Their relationship was still a secret, a fragile and fiercely guarded thing. Not because they were ashamed, but because it was precious, new, and still finding its shape. The world had a way of intruding, of pulling apart beautiful things before they were ready, and Fred was determined to protect what they had for as long as possible.
So, they stole moments together instead. They shared lingering glances across crowded rooms and soft smiles meant only for each other. He took joy in small moments like the accidental brushes of fingers that sent lightning skittering up his spine. They enjoyed the small moments, the quiet things, that kept the longing alive.
It was exquisite torture. Fred had loved her for years. At first, it had been something light and half-formed, buried beneath sarcasm and teasing and late-night study sessions. Somewhere along the way, it had grown sharper, deeper, until it lodged itself firmly in his chest and refused to leave. By the time he had realised it was love, it had already been there far too long.
“Mate,” Ron muttered beside him, elbowing his arm, “if you keep staring like that, Mum’s going to notice that you're crazy for her. She’ll be planning your wedding and knitting baby clothes before you get the chance to tell Hermione that you fancy her.”
Fred blinked, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the object of his affection. “Relax, little brother. I am being subtle.”
Ron snorted. “You look like you are seconds away from snogging her or writing her name in fireworks.”
Fred lifted his tumbler in mock salute. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no such thing.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “That is the least convincing thing you have ever said.”
Across the room, Molly Weasley’s sharp gaze followed Fred’s line of sight. She watched Hermione spin, and watched the way Fred’s eyes softened, a small smile brightening her son’s eyes. As she watched them, she felt something warm settle in her chest and leaned toward her husband excitedly.
“Arthur, watch Fred,” she told her husband in a hushed whisper.
Arthur adjusted his glasses just as Hermione turned, laughing, her eyes colliding with Fred’s. The moment stretched, intimate and unmistakable. Arthur hummed thoughtfully.
“Oh,” he murmured knowingly.
Molly smiled, soft and understanding. “They remind me of us.”
Arthur chuckled. “To be young and in love, I remember those days fondly,” he told her as he wrapped his arms around his wife and placed a loving kiss on her temple.
Near the window, Luna Lovegood tilted her head toward the enchanted ceiling, watching the drifting stardust with fascination. “The stars are humming tonight.”
Ginny glanced at her. “Is that good or catastrophic?”
“Oh, very good,” Luna replied serenely. “They only do that when two people are very close to colliding emotionally. It is like cosmic anticipation,” she told her friend as her eyes drifted across the room, her smile serene and knowing.
Ginny followed her gaze, spotted Fred and Hermione, and smirked. “That makes sense.”
Fred finally forced himself to move, weaving through the crowd until he reached Hermione’s side. He stopped just short of touching her, close enough to feel the warmth of her magic and the soft brush of her sleeve against his wrist.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked the brunette witch lightly.
She turned instantly, her expression softening as her chocolate-coloured eyes met his hazel pair. “Very much. Though it is difficult pretending I do not want to kiss you.”
His breath caught. “I solemnly swear I am exercising heroic levels of restraint, “he confessed to her, his eyes drifting to her kissable lips.
She laughed quietly. “Then you deserve a reward.”
She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was fleeting and teasing, but it sent a rush of heat through him all the same. His hands clenched at his sides, barely resisting the urge to pull her closer.
“You are cruel,” he murmured.
“Only because you enjoy it,” she teased. “And because I enjoy watching you struggle.”
Their fingers brushed, and this time neither of them pulled away. Their hands slid together, fitting perfectly, and the simple contact made his pulse stutter. He laced their fingers together, thumb stroking gently over her knuckles, grounding himself in the reality of her.
They stood like that, suspended in their own small world, until a loud voice shattered it.
“Oi!” his twin called.
They jumped apart as George skidded to a halt in front of them, eyes gleaming with suspicion and delight. “Am I interrupting something I should definitely mock later?”
“Move,” Fred muttered.
George grinned wider. “I solemnly swear I will not tease you. Much.”
Hermione snorted despite herself. “That is the biggest lie I have ever heard.”
George laughed and vanished back into the crowd, leaving Hermione to exhale shakily.
“That was far too close,” she murmured, “though perhaps it’s time we took our relationship into the light,” she suggested, moving closer to him.
“Are you sure?” Fred replied, feeling nervous yet also excited.
She smiled. “I’m ready, if you are,” she confessed quietly.
The music softened, shifting into something slower and more intimate. Lantern light dimmed to a warm glow, and the room seemed to breathe collectively. Hermione hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering her voice.
“I hate hiding,” she admitted. “I understand why we are, but sometimes I just want to tell everyone you are mine.”
His chest tightened. “You are allowed to want that, I want that too,” he confessed, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her so she was flush to his chest, their bodies swaying in time to the music.
She studied him, eyes searching. “You really mean that.”
“Always,” he said quietly. “I have loved you for years, Hermione. Long before I ever had the nerve to say it. Every time you corrected me, challenged me, stayed up too late reading, or defended me, I fell harder.”
Her eyes shone. “I was waiting for you since my fourth year. I thought you would never see me that way.”
“I always saw you,” he said softly. “I just did not think I was enough.”
She lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “You were always enough. We were just frightened to admit how we felt, frightened to complicate everything.”
“We wasted so much time,” he murmured.
“But we found our way,” she whispered.
“We did,” he smiled tenderly, as he leaned down to kiss her. He kissed her, slow and tender, pouring years of unsaid words into the press of their lips. Her hands slid into his hair, while his settled at her waist, holding her to his body, his hands steady and loving. The world narrowed to warmth, breath, and heartbeats, and for a few stolen seconds, nothing else existed. They did not care who saw them kissing at his younger brother's and Pansy’s engagement party, for in this moment, they had eyes for each other alone.
When they finally parted, she rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy.
“I love you,” she whispered.
The words lodged in his chest, heavy and perfect. “I love you too, I think I always have,” he confessed.
They drifted toward the quieter edge of the room, talking in murmured fragments and soft laughter. They reminisced about Hogwarts, about arguments and late-night studying, about inventions and dreams and places they wanted to see. Every so often, they kissed again, uncaring who noticed them together, for they were bringing their relationship out into the open, sharing it with his nosy family and the world. Hermione Granger was his witch, and he loved her.
Eventually, exhaustion, alcohol and celebration caught up with her. Her steps slowed, her laughter softened, and she leaned more heavily into his side.
“I think,” she murmured, “I am done being vertical.”
He smiled and scooped her up effortlessly, holding her close as she curled instinctively into his chest.
“Fred?” she murmured sleepily.
“Yes, love? He asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
“Promise me something,” she whispered.
“Anything,” he replied, knowing he’d give her the world if she wanted it.
“When you ask me to marry you, make it magical.”
His heart stumbled. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I solemnly swear that it will be unforgettable.” Her smile was soft and trusting as her eyes drifted shut.
As he reached for the Floo powder, Molly caught his eye across the room. She said nothing, simply smiling with warmth and quiet understanding. Arthur slipped an arm around her shoulders, both watching fondly as Fred prepared to leave. Fred smiled back at his parents, his chest full to bursting.
He hoped his and Hermione’s future would be just as wonderful as his parents' lives had been, with unwavering love, children, and grandchildren. He knew that loving Hermione Granger was the best decision he had ever made, and he also knew, with absolute certainty, that the future waiting for them would be amazing. As he stepped into the floo to take his sleeping girlfriend home, Fred couldn’t help imagining the life they’d have together, a life of adventure, romance and unforgettable moments with the woman he loved.
“I solemnly swear that I will always love you,” he whispered, as he picked up a handful of floo powder, in her sleep, Hermione smiled, her hands tightening in the fabric of his shirt, Fred kissed her forehead, a smile of his own upon his face as he threw the floo powder into the grate of the fireplace, “Granger’s Book Nook, Diagon Alley,” he called quietly, holding her body tighter in his arms as the party disappeared, the pair of them zooming through the fireplaces until a familiar powder blue sitting room came into view, its walls lined with over flowing bookshelves.
“Home sweet home,” he whispered as he stepped out of her fireplace and set off down the corridor to tuck his sleeping girlfriend into her bed. Perhaps sometime in the not-so-distant future, her flat would also be his. Fred would like that very much.
The End
Or perhaps it's only the beginning!