Work Text:
Hermione was curled up on the sofa in her flat, reading, when the floo activated with a whoosh and flash of green flames.
She looked up in time to see her boyfriend and flatmate, Fred Weasley, limp through the fireplace. He stopped in his tracks to wave his wand and clean the soot from his hair and clothes, the expression of pain still fixed on his features.
“Hey,” she set her book down on the coffee table and eyed him carefully. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a lot of moving around at the shop today.” He shifted his weight in an attempt to relieve some pressure and did a poor job hiding his wince.
She didn’t say anything, just got to her feet and moved to wrap him in a hug. His arms settled around her waist and she felt him rest some of his weight on her smaller frame. It was alright, though. She was happy to do whatever she needed to support him. She closed her eyes, remembering the day she’d nearly lost him.
***
Hermione sat motionless on the floor outside Fred’s room at St. Mungo’s. He’d been brought here after being pulled out of the rubble following the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. That had been nearly two days ago and she had no intention of leaving before he was awake.
All things considered, it was a miracle he was alive. A bloody wall had collapsed on top of him and somehow the worst damage had only been to his left leg. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was his mangled leg and his pale, too-still body after the rubble had been moved. Even thinking of it now was enough to send her into a panic.
“Here.” A paper cup of tea suddenly appeared in front of her and she looked to her left to see that Ron was handing it to her. “Thought you could use this.”
“Thanks, Ron.” She smiled, taking a sip of the warm liquid.
“He’s going to be alright, you know.” Ron took a seat next to her and Hermione took the opportunity to look at her friend.
He looked just the same as he always had, certain, determined, stubbornly convinced he was right. She was relieved that her perception of him hadn’t changed since that disastrous kiss in the Chamber of Secrets. They’d emerged from the chamber, basilisk fangs in hand, and only had to look at each other to realize the kiss had been a mistake.
“I hope you’re right.” She could hear her voice trembling and hated it.
“I know I am. Fred’s probably one of the toughest of all of us.Remember how he and George escaped Umbridge? And how they refused to back off making Bagman pay what he owed them after the World Cup?”
The memories brought a small smile to her face and she took another drink of her tea. She was about to say something else when the door opened and a Healer in lime green robes stepped out.
“He’s awake, but a bit groggy. You can go in and see him, just keep the noise down.”
“Go on,” Ron nodded to her. “I’ll let the rest of the family know.”
Hermione nodded, scrambling to her feet. She slipped into the hospital room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Fred was lying in the bed, propped up on a number of pillows. From the waist up he looked unharmed, but it was impossible to miss the bandages covering his left leg. Tears sprang to her eyes at the evidence of how close he’d come to death.
“No need to cry just yet, Hermione, I’m still here.”
His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard. But his eyes were open and that, along with his words, made her smile. Before she realized it, she had launched herself across the room and into his arms.
They were quiet for a minute, just hugging, but when she went to pull back his hands moved to either side of her face. Their gazes met and the sincerity in his blue eyes took her breath away.
“Hermione,” he began, keeping his voice low in the quiet of the room. “I’d really like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”
His request caught her off guard and she blinked several times, trying to process what he’d just said.
“It’s alright,” He said after a moment, clearly taking her silence as rejection. “Forget I even said anything. I don’t want this to affect our friendship.”
“Fred, you just surprised me,” she spoke quickly, wanting to make sure he understood her. “The truth is, I’d like it very much if you kissed me.”
“Yeah?”
She was careful to meet his eyes as she nodded. Then, without further preamble, he leaned up and pressed his lips to hers.
At first the kiss was soft and gentle, more like their lips brushing against each other than an actual kiss. But then, after he seemed to realize she’d been serious about wanting him to kiss her, he cradled her face gently in his hands and kissed her again more forcefully.
This time she was able to appreciate the way his lips moved against hers. She was able to revel in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands on her cheeks. And, when the kiss ended, she was able to fully see the awed expression on his face.
“Wow, that was…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to describe what had just transpired between them.
“Yeah, it was.” She smiled and perched on the edge of the bed so their gazes were level.
“I’m sorry if that was a bit forward, but when I woke up after the Battle, the Healers told me how close I came to dying. That was when I realized that I’m done waiting. The truth is that I’ve fancied you for a while now and I didn’t want to lose my chance.”
She blinked as his words sunk in, and suddenly it all made sense. Not only he fancy her, but she obviously fancied him. That was why she’d sat outside his hospital room for two days, why she’d nearly spiraled into a panic attack when he’d been pulled unconscious from the rubble, why she’d enjoyed their dance during Bill’s wedding so much.
“I’m glad you were forward. I don’t think I realized it until just now, but I fancy you too.”
“You don’t know how happy that makes me.” He murmured before kissing her again. She kissed him back, letting herself get lost in the sensations, when the sound of a door opening behind them ruined their moment.
“And what do we have here?” She turned to see George watching with a knowing smile on his face. He was accompanied by Mrs. Weasley, whose smile was larger than Hermione had ever seen.
Hermione felt the urge to pull away from Fred, but he refused to let go of her hand. So, she simply stayed by his side and joined in the visit with his twin and his mother.
***
She smiled against his shoulder at the memory of their first kisses in the wake of the war. It had been such a scary, uncertain time, but they had worked on healing together and supporting each other on their journeys. Speaking of healing, it was obvious he needed some help.
“Come on,” she squeezed his arm gently to get his attention. “Let’s go to the bedroom so you can lay down.”
He didn’t respond for a minute, and she worried he might resist, but eventually sighed and nodded. She could feel his frustration at being in pain and it made her heart hurt for him. Though they’d both been seeing Mind Healers since his release from St. Mungo’s, he still struggled with the lasting impact of his injuries. He leaned heavily into her and they made their way towards the bedroom.
Once they crossed the threshold he limped over to lie on the bed while she rummaged in the nightstand on his side of the bed for the small bottle of massage oil that magically warmed as it was rubbed in. She’d seen him use it on his leg before and figured it would help.
“That’s a perfect idea. If you could just help me get undressed I’ll be all set.”
It wasn’t often that either of them asked for help, and she knew it was a mark of how much pain he was really in.
“Actually,” she straightened up with the bottle of oil in one hand. “I was thinking I could do it. If you’re alright with that.”
Massaging his scarred leg was something he’d started doing recently, on the advice of a new Healer at St. Mungo’s.
“I’d love that.”
She smiled widely and climbed onto the bed and knelt so she was facing him where he lay on his back. They worked together to remove his trousers, and she opened the bottle of massage oil and poured a few drops into her palm.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and began rubbing the oil into his leg at the base of the scar, a few inches above his knee, the way she’d watched him do in the past. The muscles were unbelievably tense under her fingers. He had definitely pushed himself too far today.
She didn’t comment on it or scold him, just found herself wishing he would take it a bit easier.
They were still young, particularly by wizarding standards, and he’d expressed to her before that having limitations drove him crazy. He could still remember the way he’d been prior to the war, how it had been nothing to run up and down the steps in the joke shop multiple times a day or how disappearing into the basement to check on stock for a customer took no time at all. Now those tasks were mostly relegated to George.
Finally, the muscles relaxed a bit and she moved up higher, to mid-thigh. Maybe the pain and tightness had just come from standing, she mused as she worked. She could remember every time her feet ached from standing too long and supposed his injury likely made things about a hundred times worse.
Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she’d been near him during the Battle of Hogwarts. If she had, then maybe she could have lessened the impact of the falling wall somehow. Or perhaps prevented it altogether. But her Mind Healer’s words rang through her head before she could fully embrace the spiral. There was nothing she could have done. Blaming herself would not do her, or him, any good.
“That feels amazing, Hermione,” his voice, heavy with relief, broke into her train of thought.
“Good, I’m glad.” She looked up and met his eyes with a smile. Just as she was about to continue massaging, he spoke again.
“Come here, I want to hold you.”
“But I’m not done. There’s still —”
“I know. But we’ve got plenty of time. And you’ve already made a huge difference.”
For just a minute she hesitated. There was a high likelihood he was still in pain and she didn’t feel right letting him suffer. But then she ultimately caved, cleaned the oil from her hands with a wandless “Scourgify” and crawled up the bed to lay down on his right side. His arms encircled her as she smiled into his chest.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked after a moment of silence.
She tilted her head up so their eyes could meet before she answered. “How lucky we both are to still be here. And how I’m glad we didn’t miss our chance.”
He smiled, and the gleam in his bright blue eyes had her heart melting. They kissed then, getting lost in the moment and in each other.
The kiss ended, and she briefly considered straddling him but decided to hold off. They’d attempted to have sex once before when his leg was acting up and the pain he’d experienced when tensing in pleasure had abruptly killed the mood. That could wait until the injury calmed down. Like he’d said, they had plenty of time.