Chapter Text
Diagon Alley was abuzz with activity as Wizarding Britain got ready for its first Annual Liberation Day Parade.
During the Memorial of the Fallen, on the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Wizengamot had announced that May 2nd would become a National Holiday and that, starting the following year, a parade would be held in Diagon Alley. Preparations for the event had begun immediately.
Over the past year, Diagon Alley had changed beyond recognition. The street had been magically expanded, becoming almost as wide as Pall Mall. A Museum of Wizarding History had been opened right next to Gringotts. It was filled with memorabilia from both Wizarding Wars, alongside several magical artefacts that the Museum had, not always legally, acquired from all over the world. All storefronts had been given a fresh coat of paint. Wrought iron benches and magically grown Plane Trees now lined the sides of the street, providing shade, a place to sit, and an excuse to mingle and chat.
Everything was newer, better, shinier, and brighter, just like the future ahead of the people of Wizarding Britain.
For over a month, the Aurors had been marching up and down Diagon Alley at least one night a week. A six by six company on foot followed by a four by four flying formation on brooms. Kingsley was rumored to be expected at the head of the parade riding an Abraxan. Fred and George had been hired to arrange an over the top fireworks display that had taken them several weeks to plan.
Delegations from all over the world had been steadily trickling in since mid April with a large influx of tourists expected on May 1st.
Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was even busier than usual. Fred, George and Lee spent hours every day and every night working in their lab to keep the shelves well stocked. People from around the globe were coming in and stocking up on the most outrageous WWW products to take back home. Lavender, Verity, Angelina and Ron, who manned the counter, were making ample use of the translation spells Hermione had taught them.
Ah yes. Hermione.
Fred had been in love with her since their rebellious days under Umbridge’s reign of terror. He had never managed to gather the courage to actually ask her on a date though. He had been just about to pull his head out of his arse, and ask her to dance at Bill’s wedding, when the sodding Death Eaters had barged in and killed the atmosphere. Rude!
She had then proceeded to save his life during the battle. For a moment he’d thought she might actually be interested in him, but then Ron had begun asking her to start dating, and Fred had stepped back. Oh what an idiot he’d been! She had resisted Ron’s advances for months, but ever since she’d capitulated six months ago, Fred had had to endure the sight of Hermione bickering with his own brother, while he secretly dreamed of burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her.
Those two argued about everything. It was exhausting to watch. Even Molly Weasley, head of the department of meddling and match-making, had talked Ron out of proposing, when he’d announced to the family that he was planning on going ring shopping before Valentine’s day.
They loved each other, that was clear to anyone, but they were so ill suited that watching them interact as a couple was like actively listening while someone scraped their nails on a blackboard.
Just a few weeks ago, George had overheard their mother talking to their father.
“I’m worried, Arthur. Those two are so ill suited it’s almost unbearable to witness. We’ve managed to dissuade Ron from proposing, for now, but I’m not sure how to get them to see the truth.”
“Hermione is a clever girl, darling. She’ll figure it out.”
“Oh I know she is clever, but our Ronald is rather stubborn. I think Hermione would make a much better partner for Fred, they are more similar then they might look to a superficial observer, you know.”
“That they are, love. And I may be mistaken, but I think our boy is quite smitten with her. I’m sure he'll concoct a way to make things right. He’s rather clever too.”
“I hope so, dear. I don’t want to push her away lest she think I don’t like her. Merlin knows I haven’t always been kind to her,” Molly sighed. “and Ronald, he needs a different kind of witch. I’m not sure who would be a right fit for him, but surely somewhere out there is a witch who would make him happier than Hermione ever could.”
When George had relayed the conversation, Fred had decided he would do just that. He wanted to help them get free from each other, because they were obviously stuck. They remained together out of some misguided sense of duty. Fred needed to provide both of them with a way out without ruining their friendship.
If that effort happened to simultaneously give him the chance to earn Hermione’s affection, well… do consider minding your own business.
Lavender was extremely self conscious of the scar that Greyback had left on her face. It ran, jagged, crooked, and with a silvery sheen, from her right nostril, across her cheek, and all the way to her ear. She had found that muggles had special techniques to cover scars. One day, she’d ventured into muggle London to learn. Keeping it hidden when she was with other people made her feel better.
She was lucky, she knew that. Ginny had seen Greyback as he was approaching her and had killed him immediately. One scar, a preference for rare steak, and a heightened sense of smell were a small price to pay, considering the alternative.
Well, the heightened sense of smell was a bit of a problem, especially when one worked in a shop whose vast majority of patrons were hormonal teenaged boys with a very loose sense of personal hygiene. But still, she was alive and she wasn’t a full fledged werewolf. Silver linings and all that.
Bill Weasley had been extremely helpful in navigating the first few months, as she recovered in St Mungo’s and afterwards as she came to terms with everything that had happened. He’d visited often and told her what she should expect. He’d also explained the whole mate thing. Apparently, being werewolf-adjacent meant that she probably had a mate out there, somewhere, but the bond wouldn’t be easy to identify. It had been, for Bill, because he already was Fleur’s veela’s mate, and therefore his dormant wolf had chosen Fleur as its mate.
In her case, the wolf would have to try and send her signals when its mate was near. Whatever that meant.
Her wolf had been quiet as she wandered through the streets of muggle London coming and going from her SFX make-up classes.
But ever since she’d started working afternoons at WWW, to make ends meet, her wolf had kept her on edge. She had come to realize that it had to be one of the people she worked with, but they were all together all the time, so she couldn’t be sure.
But then, just a few weeks ago, Lavender had found herself alone in the storage room making inventory, when someone had stepped in to grab a box of daydream charms to restock the shelves.
The semi-wolf inside her had gone wild.
They had stared wide eyed at each other for an inordinate amount of time. She had been just about to walk towards him and claim his lips when his eyes had focused again, and with a gasp he’d turned around and walked out.
Her mate was Ronald bloody Weasley. And he didn’t know.
As if things had ever been easy between them. He’d broken her heart before and she wasn’t going to let him do it again. She needed some advice.
Fleur, as always, had welcomed her at the door with a smile and a glass of chilled white wine. They’d sat in the veranda overlooking the beach, and Lavender had opened her heart to the French witch.
“My brozer in law ees a beet… slow in matters of love. Luckily, ze rest of ze family isn’t.” Fleur had commented. “I know, for sure, zat Fred ‘as a plan to get Ron and ‘Ermione to break amicably.” She took a sip of her wine.
“How does one break… amicably?” Lavender had wondered aloud, the memory of her breakup with Ron in sixth year still raw.
“Oh, quite easily. Zey just ‘ave to admit zey are better off as friends.” She waved her hand, dismissing Lavender’s worries. “I know Fred ‘as a plan. We weel just ‘ave to meddle.” She pulled her wand out of one of the pockets of her dress and summoned her patronus. The silvery swan waited for instructions before floating off to carry its message.
Ronald Weasley had never cheated on Hermione, though the reason for this faithfulness probably lay in the fact that, he suspected, Hermione would hex his balls off if he dared step one toe out of line. But he’d let his eyes wander more than once. Well, not exactly wander because… was it wandering if those traitorous eyes always went in the same direction? He was a tit-man, he liked blondes, and he loved to see witches in flirty short skirts and low cut tops. He was almost sure Hermione had never worn a skirt that wasn’t the school uniform. Not to mention the fact that, half the time, when she was on a roll about some ethical battle or other, his brain refused to follow, his eyes glazed over, and she got all incensed.
But he knew one person with long blonde hair, and gorgeous tits, who liked to wear flirty skirts and sexy tops. Ron suspected that she dressed like that so that people wouldn’t notice her scar. He actually liked the scar too, because it was part of who she was, it showed she was brave, loyal and strong.
He hadn’t been alone with her since sixth year. He knew she’d gotten close to Bill and Fleur because of the whole ‘wolf issue’, but until she’d come to work at the shop he hadn’t seen her. Now that they spent many hours a day working together he realized she was fun to be with, witty, and easygoing.
They were great pals. Mates, one could say. The fact that he also liked her looks was entirely coincidental.
He loved Hermione, he truly did! They were meant to be together. The Prophet had run a piece on that, right after the battle. “The Golden Trio becomes Family!” Had been the title, written in big bold letters. The author, not Skeeter, had waxed poetic about Harry and Ginny kissing right after the battle, and had heavily implied that, surely, he and Hermione would soon follow their lead and become an item.
They had indeed shared a kiss, albeit a very awkward one, in the Chamber of Secrets, so that article had helped Ron make up his mind, and he’d asked Hermione out on a date. She’d been hesitant at first, but he’d convinced her, though it had taken him a few months. And now here they were. And he loved her completely. But the kisses had never stopped being awkward, and the sex… Well, the sex was… awkwarder. Was that even a word? Surely Hermione would know, and she would roll her eyes at him and shake her head.
He felt stuck. He couldn’t bring himself to dump Hermione, because he didn’t want to hurt her and lose her friendship. But at the same time, he knew that their relationship was doomed, because sooner or later something would have to change.
As these thoughts unhelpfully swirled through his mind, Ron went down the stairs to see if his parents were ready to leave. With the Auror training and everything he hadn’t really had time to look for a place of his own, plus staying at the Burrow meant that he could still enjoy his mum’s cooking. And the few times he and Hermione had slept together over the past few months, he’d just gone to her place. He honestly didn’t see the point of moving out.
When Molly was done fussing about the chocolate cake she’d baked for the party, they flooed over to the twins’ flat.
As always, his brothers had gone above and beyond. Bluebell flames in small jars lit the way to the terrace, trays of food sat on the kitchen table, waiting to be taken upstairs, flowers adorned every surface. An unusual music filled the air. (Léo Delibes, Coppélia Prelude et Mazurke)
“Hey ickle Ronniekins! Hello mum, dad!” Shouted George as soon as he saw them.
“Ron, you go on upstairs. Mum, dad, can you two stay a minute? I might have messed up the roast!” Fred called from the kitchen.
Ron waved at his brothers and took the steps two at a time. He didn’t want to be there when mum got going, redoing everything the twins had messed up.
None of their friends had arrived yet. The terrace was quiet, except for music that flowed from a direction he couldn’t quite point, and the sun was just beginning to set, bathing everything in a soft golden glow. As he looked around, on a small balcony that jutted out of the building behind the store, he saw a girl.
She had long blond hair and… Merlin, she had a set of tits that would have put Madam Rosmerta to shame. He couldn’t quite make out her facial features, but she seemed rather pretty. She was dancing on the spot and twirling her short skirt.
He felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He was just about to walk towards the girl to introduce himself, as a friend, when Harry and Ginny walked up the stairs with Arthur and Molly, followed by George and Angelina. With a stifled groan, he walked towards them.
“Hey mate!” Harry greeted him with a hard slap on his shoulder.
“Hello, Ronny boy!” Ginny punched his upper arm.
“Ouch! Are you two done hitting me?” Ron whined, rubbing where he was sure he’d bruise. His sister was a bloody menace!
He turned towards the dancing girl on the balcony and smiled at her, hoping she had been distracted and hadn’t seen him get beaten by his baby sister.
But… oh fuck! She was gone!
He waited for the others to be distracted, before deftly jumping onto the small balcony and sneaking into the dark flat.
Hermione checked her watch as she finished getting ready for the night. She’d stopped home for a shower after work, and now she was running a bit late. She wanted to look nice tonight, sexy… perhaps?
As if looking sexy would do anything to improve things with Ron, she thought with a sigh.
Not that she didn’t love him, she absolutely, wholeheartedly did. But she wasn’t in love with him. And she felt awful about it. They were such good friends, really. She enjoyed spending time with him, he made her laugh and always supported her. Even though he did tend to roll his eyes when she got excited about something and began speaking fast and gesticulating. But he was sweet, and they cared for each other.
Things only became awkward when they were supposed to do what couples normally do. Like kissing, and having sex.
It wasn’t bad, exactly. Their sex was technically impeccable.
‘Technically’ being the key word. Every time, Hermione felt as though they were performing. They didn’t make love, they took NEWTS on the subject of lovemaking.
If she had to grade their performances, they would score an Exceeds Expectations, at best. And she really, really, really wanted an O. Or several. She was a swot, and proud of it, after all.
Hermione also knew for sure that he wasn’t in love with her either, but he had never shown interest towards anyone else in particular. She on the other hand… how could she dump Ronald, turn around and ask out his own brother? It would destroy their friendship, and she wasn’t willing to do that. She really wished Ron would dump her, it would make everything much easier.
She finished applying mascara and headed to the fireplace. Ready to face the consequences of her wrong choices, with a sigh, she called out for the twins’ flat. Hoping against reason that she could avoid making a fool of herself with Fred.
Which, of course, couldn’t be.
She stepped out of the floo, her stiletto got caught in the carpet and she stumbled, falling right into Fred’s arms. Why on Earth had she even worn stilettos?!
“Hello, love.” He helped her regain her balance and placed a lingering kiss on her temple, his arms still wrapped around her. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” He winked.
Hermione couldn’t help the blush that rose up to her cheeks. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, just like any time Fred touched her.
Which was far too often, considering she was dating his brother, and not nearly often enough, considering she was head over heels for him. She thought that, given the chance, she could spend the rest of her life standing here, wrapped in Fred’s strong arms, and never complain.
She pulled herself together and stepped away from him. Good Godric, he looked even better than usual with tailored black slacks and a freshly pressed button up shirt that matched the blue of his eyes perfectly and made them seem even deeper.
Those gorgeous, intelligent eyes that were looking at her like she was his favourite meal and he’d been starving for months.
“Hello, F…Fred. The house looks lovely. Do you need help with anything?”
“Thank you, love, but everything’s done. You just go up to the terrace and enjoy yourself. I’ll join you in a jiffy.” His smile sent shivers down her spine.
She walked up the stairs, admiring the beautiful decorations the twins had artfully scattered everywhere. Bluebell flames in small mason jars floated along the stairs, tulips in every shade were displayed in several vases. Surely the fact that they had used her favourite blooms was a mere coincidence. Trays upon trays of food were ready for the hungry crowd that would soon fill the place.
Music played softly from somewhere, something that reminded her of ballet class, a long time ago.
She immediately spotted Harry and Ginny, who were talking to Molly and Arthur, and walked towards them.
“Hello Hermione, dear,” Molly greeted her with a hug. “Have you met Fred yet? He’s looking particularly dashing tonight, isn’t he?”
Hermione blushed and sputtered before replying tentatively. “Yes, yes, I mean… I met him straight out of the floo. Is he… looking dashing? I didn’t really notice.” She lied through her teeth.
She couldn’t see Ron anywhere. He was probably running late.
“Sickle for your thoughts, love.” Fred appeared from out of nowhere, startling her.
“Oh! Goodness, Fred! I didn’t hear you coming.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “I was just thinking that Ronald is late. I reminded him at least twenty times.”
“Oh, he’s here. Got through the floo with mum and dad. Would you let me show you something?”
“Oh, alright.” She smiled at him and took his hand. He led her towards a small balcony that protruded from the next building and came level with the terrace.