A/N: Hello all! Just something that was tripping around in my brain after rewatching all the HP movies over Thanksgiving break. The characters are (sadly) not mine, but I hope you enjoy just the same!
The Burrow was once again packed, near to full capacity, which was astounding considering the three brilliant wizards and one matronly witch who had cast plenty of stretching charms. Everyone was there to celebrate the second anniversary of the War. The first had been rough, most of the War heroes and heroines trying to steer clear of the packed streets and festive celebrations, either from the terrible memories it seemed to regurgitate, or the horrifying feeling of being packed in on all sides and being unable to breathe. Of course, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were unable to do anything else BUT be the center of attention, but the Ministry was certainly disappointed when they managed to slip through the cracks after only five hours of mingling.
Harry and Ron were busy training to be Aurors, and were quickly climbing the ranks. They were always casually bantering with each other, competing to see who would take the Head Auror position, even though they both knew it would fall to Harry. Harry, for his part, hated the favoritism, and Ron was just good-natured enough to accept that his friend's fame would open doors faster than his own merit.
Hermione was busy at the Ministry, slogged down by so many opportunities that the owls almost killed each other the first day to get to her. Eventually, she had shocked everyone and become a Curse Breaker, leaving S.P.E.W. behind for the time being. In between her 14 hour shifts, she would try to find time to visit the Burrow so that she could see the Weasleys (mostly Ron). After a year and a half of dating, she was sure that he would be proposing at any moment, and often found herself anxious to the point of dry heaves whenever she was invited over for a special family gathering.
Why? She had no idea.
Tonight was no different. Her stomach churned and the bile at the back of her throat made her gulp down a very robust mouthful of pumpkin juice as she surveyed all the pictures that had been set up around the room, each a small tribute to their fallen friends. She noticed Harry holding Teddy, letting the young boy absently stroke a picture of his mum and dad, who were happily grinning from ear to ear at the camera, in between Tonks' morphing hair and nose. George was over in the corner of the room, sipping firewhiskey and placing a hand on Fred's shoulder as they both stared down at Percy's picture. For all their teasing and professed hatred of their brown-nosing brother, they shared a deep guilt after he had pushed Fred out of harm's way during the final battle. He hadn't survived the wall.
Molly was bustling about, pointedly trying not to look at her son's picture, while swishing her wand and making sure everyone was served. Ginny had joined Harry, and he was stroking her back and she tickled Teddy and made him laugh. Everything was almost perfect about this year, if one could forget for even a millisecond that half their friends and loved ones were dead. The Golden Trio had made a quick appearance at the Ministry celebration, Harry had stumbled through his speech while Hermione whispered some of the words under her breath, and Ron wasn't completely drunk yet. All in all, much better than last year.
So why did Hermione feel exactly the same sickening feeling as the moment before apparation?
"Whatcha doin', love?" Hermione steeled herself against reaching for her wand as Ron stepped up behind her and gurgled in her ear. It was a reflex she couldn't curb yet, but one that always hurt Ron when he noticed her unease.
"Just being thankful," she replied softly, scanning the room again. "I'm thankful that there are so many people here, even though we lost so many."
"Wonder where those sandwiches went," Ron mumbled, already off on another tangent.
Hermione glanced down at the glass in his hand, only to realize he was carrying around the whole bottle of Ogden's Finest. She took in a deep breath and counted to 10. Ron never drank. He had refused for months after the War, throwing himself into his Auror training to numb the pain. But each anniversary had broken that streak. He would have nightmares for weeks before the celebration, and when the day finally came, he was seized with almost a crippling sense of depression. "Ron, love, why don't I get you some tea? Or a potion?" Hermione asked.
His eyes turned and looked at her with something that belied frustration. "Mione, lay off, okay? Please."
"I know," she tried, going for soothing. "I'm just worried about you. Don't want you feeling as badly as last year."
Ron shook his head a bit too hard, stumbling back and reaching out for her. On instinct, she helped steady him and he took a moment to get situated before running his knuckles down her cheek. "We can't all be strong like you, Hermione." His tone was so sad, and so clear, that fear instantly squeezed her heart in a vice-like grip. Something was wrong. Before she could ask him what he meant, Ron twisted away from her and shouted, "Oi! Can I get everyone's attention?" When only a few people turned around, he hopped up on the couch unsteadily and proclaimed loudly, "Oi! Everyone! I just want to say a quick word, and then you can get on with your chit chat."
Harry had slid through the small crowd to stand close to Hermione. "What's he doing?" he whispered.
The bile rose again. "I have no idea."
Ron looked out at the sea of dim faces and nodded, like he finally understood the meaning to life. "We've had a rough go of it," he began, and people around them started to relax. Perhaps this wouldn't be as embarrassing as they thought. "We've lost too many, too many loved ones and we'd do anything to get them back." Across from her, Hermione saw Fred nod once. "And that's why I want to say somethi-something important to the witch that has made it all worth it," Ron went on.
Hermione tensed, feeling like her knees were going to give out. The panic she felt as the gaze of everyone in the room focused on her made her want to run. Fight or Flight. Get out! Run! But she stayed there, almost petrified to the spot, watching as the very thing she thought she'd always wanted barrel toward her like a train wreck. "No," she silently begged.
"Hannah," Ron said, swiveling around to address the young medi-witch, who was half-way between bites of coffee cake, and started coughing. "Hannah's been amazing you guys," he went on, ignoring the horrified looks of everyone else. "Hannah, marry me baby."
"Um, Ron," Hannah whispered as all eyes went from her to Hermione like a tension-filled tennis game, "I-I think you mean Hermione."
Ron took a swig from his bottle and batted away his father's beckoning arm. "No, no, I mean Hannah. Blimey, you're an amazing shag. And Hermione can't have kids, so really…what's the use, right?" He began giggling and mumbling something incoherent, but no one was paying him any attention after a sharp hex sent him tumbling over the back of the couch.
Hermione blinked, not having realized her wand was in her hand. But when she looked down, it wasn't. Harry, however, was fuming and lowered his wand arm before very slowly turning toward her. "Hermione," he whispered, reaching out for her.
She stumbled back, dizzy and numb from the shock. Shock that Ron had told her most shameful secret to all their friends. Shock that Harry had just hexed his best friend. The last thing she saw before she apparated away was the look on Fred Weasley's face as he stepped toward her.
And then, she was vomiting in the street outside of the Leaky.
"Are you going to drink all that by yourself, or can I have a few?"
Hermione looked up from her corner table of the Leaky to find Fred standing there with his annoyingly perfect grin on his annoyingly handsome face. She glanced down at the two bottles of firewhiskey she had on the table, one already half gone, and waved her hand absently. The chair across from her slid out, beckoning him to sit, and Fred couldn't hide his surprise.
"My, my, Granger, wordless wandless magic while you're sloshed. You really are the greatest witch of your age." He pulled her glass towards him with a wry smile and poured a healthy glass before knocking it back and downing it in two gulps.
"I'm not sloshed," she muttered sadly, shifting restlessly in her chair. "I drink too much when I'm alone to be sloshed yet." She was holding one arm at a strange angle, but when Fred tried to crane his neck and see why, she glared at him.
He shrugged and poured another glass for himself, but she reached out and took it, gulping it down just like he had. "Hermione Granger," he teased, "are you an alcoholic?" When she opened her mouth, probably to yell at him, he waved her off. "No I know! You're just making sure that the economy of distilleries gets back on its feet." He snatched back the glass and saluted her mockingly. "Aren't we all."
They sat there for a long while, swapping the bottle until it was empty. Fred took it as a good sign when Hermione didn't reach to open the second one. "Ron cheated on me," she stated, staring so hard at the wooden table that Fred feared she was going to have a burst of accidental magic and set it on fire.
What does one say when your brother had been a total dick? "Yeah."
"With Hannah."
"She's one of the on call medi-witches during Auror missions."
Hermione nodded absently, like this information wasn't a surprise. "I can't have children."
"I heard."
She stared up at him, searching his face for...what? Pity? Anger? She found nothing there but an openness she had rarely seen from the Weasley Twins. "Yes, I suppose everyone heard," she muttered.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Don't let anyone tell you that it is."
Hermione let out a sardonic laugh at that. "Right! Tell that to the woman you thought was going to be your mother-in-law, who only wants enough grandchildren to repopulate half of Wizarding England!"
Fred shrugged absently. "Harry and Ginny will keep her busy for a while. That, and yelling at Ron." When Hermione peeked up at him, he nodded very gravely. "Oh yes, it was quite a mess when I left. I don't think Ron will be able to sit for a week."
The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched pleasantly, which made other parts of Fred twitch...but the twitching only grew stronger when she shook her head and laughed. "Merlin, I'm not even mad! I mean, of course I'm hurt, and he's a prat, but I'm so relieved that I won't even care about it until tomorrow." She grinned at him and reached for the second bottle. "I'm so relieved, Fred. I might even wait until Monday and put it in my inbox. Worry about it then."
Fred reached out to grab her wrist and gently twisted it toward him, holding on just hard enough to fight Hermione's jerking when she realized that she had reached with the wrong hand. The hand that she had kept hidden under the table was streaked with dried blood, rivulets falling in between the raised lines of MUDBLOOD. He gulped hard and his fingers shook as he gently touched the torn and puffy skin. "You-you tried to cut it out again," he whispered, feeling instantly more sober.
Hermione shrugged, tensing as his fingers made contact with the skin, even though she couldn't even feel it. "You know me," she laughed hollowly. "I don't give up."
All of the bitterness and fear and anger flashed through Fred in that moment. The weight of the War crashed down on him and Percy's buggering little face was so clear in his mind that he blinked several times to clear it away. His time during the War hadn't been nearly as traumatic, but he had watched several of his closest friends and mentors die and had often shared several glasses of firewhiskey with George to keep the nightmares at bay, passing out on the couch in a restless slumber when the flashbacks became too real.
Now, seated in front of the most brilliant witch he knew, thinking back on the stories he had heard of the War, and remembering the way she had fought to keep Percy alive, covered in blood and sobbing for a man that had stood by and watched as she got in trouble as a young girl, he realized just how big her heart truly was. She had always been pretty, and he had first entertained some less than appropriate thoughts after the Yule Ball, but so had every other male in the room who didn't carry a torch for other blokes. Now though, with her hair mussed and falling out of her updo, the firelight dancing along her features and reducing the severity of her splotchy crying, and her arm crusted over in blood, this was truly the strongest he has ever seen her. Knowing that this was Hermione's way of trying to open up a bit, to show him even some of the pain she was feeling, was such a kick in the gut that had Fred catching his breath.
He realized that he was still holding her wrist and locked eyes with her, scanning her face. "I can make it not hurt," he told her, slowly weighing each word as it rolled off his tongue.
Hermione looked up, clearly surprised that he wasn't berating her for trying to cut the terrible scar out of her arm. "It doesn't hurt," she whispered, embarrassed and ashamed that he was seeing her in such a weak moment. Hermione Granger did not get sloshed in the Leaky where other people could witness her breakdown. Hermione Granger was supposed to be strong...but she was so, so tired of keeping it all together.
Fred's eyes never left hers as he shook his head. "That's not what I meant."
The look in his eyes made her insides clench, as understanding unfurled inside her hazy brain. Her lips parted in surprise and she felt like she had been doused with Sober-Up Potion. "Oh...Oh!" Heat rushed through her body like molten lava, taking her by surprise and making her palm sweat. She pulled away from him slowly, clenching and unclenching her fist. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Fred had just opened his mouth (probably to apologize) when Hermione stood and moved toward the bar. He tried to stare anywhere but at the blood on her robes. She spoke to Tom and pressed her lips together in displeasure as he seemed to be asking if she needed help with the blood, before accepting a key and making her way back to the table. "Let's go."
Fred stood uncertainly and silently followed as she led him up to the third floor. This was wrong. This was his little brother's ex-girlfriend. He had never expected her to actually say yes. What the bloody hell was he do- "Are you freaking out on me?" Hermione asked, interrupting his freak out.
"Not at all," he lied smoothly. And then, as he watched her cheeks flush so prettily while she unlocked the door, he realized that he wasn't freaking out. Not anymore. Sod Ron. He had wanted this witch for years, watching as she wilted every so slowly under his brother's treatment. For tonight, she was his.
They entered the small room and Hermione expected him jump right in like Ron usually did. Instead, Fred slowly took her coat from her arms and set it down on the dresser before turning back to the door and locking it with a wave of his wand. He must have noticed the slight tension in Hermione because he looked down at her and asked. "Hermione, how drunk are you?"
She shook her head. "Not that drunk. Why?"
He nodded and held out his wand toward her. She gave him a questioning look and he explained, "I want you to remember this. For tonight, no wands, no magic." She slowly took his offering, completely aware of how much trust he was putting in her to give up his wand and he added, "I'm yours."
Overwhelmed, she realized in that moment that he knew more about her than she thought. The flinches and the recoils she hid when people raised their wands unexpectedly, the fear when Ron or Harry played a little too rough with her...everything. She saw it in his eyes. And he was going to take the pain away if she let him.
She took out her wand and placed them both on the dresser next to her coat. "Thank you," she whispered.
And then he was kissing her, lips dropping down to hers and capturing them in a kiss that sent electricity to her toes. She gasped in surprise, her hands reflexively coming up to brace herself on his arms and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He tongue found hers and she heard a soft moan from him. His hands touched her waist lightly, then trailed up her sides, ghosting over her ribs on their way up her neck to cup her face and tilt it whatever way he wanted.
It was only the first kiss and already, Hermione felt like she couldn't get enough. She pulled away to suck a breathe in and found him watching her with dark eyes, pupils dilated with desire that made her tremble and seal their lips back to each other. He let her control the kiss, taking whatever she gave and dropping one hand to her waist so that he could pull her closer, hips bumping against each other. Fred hissed at the friction and Hermione felt his hardness already. When she broke away again, Fred dropped his lips to her neck and sucked, grinning against the skin there when she shivered and let out a small gasp. He was being as light and as gentle as possible while not completely sober.
And it wasn't enough.
Hermione brought her hands up to run over his chest and was momentarily distracted by the muscle she found there. Soon though, she was gently pushing him away, and the hole in her heart shrunk just a bit more when Fred immediately stepped back, wobbling slightly and searching her face for pain or panic. "W-what if I," she began, and reached out to run her nails down his shirt. "Um, what if I want it to hurt?"
Fred's jaw dropped. "What?"
Hermione's already pink cheeks flushed red. "Not hurt, exactly, but would you mind not being so gentle with me? It's been a long while but I-I think I need it."
Fred thought he was going to cum right there. His pants tightened and he stepped closer, using one finger to tilt Hermione's face up from where she was intensely studying the floor. "Are you sure?" He didn't even recognize his own voice. It was deep and gravelly with desire for this witch.
Hermione nodded, and when he still waited, she looked up at him and fisted a hand in his shirt, pulling him closer. "I trust you," she whispered.
That was all it took for Fred to thread his hands through her hair and push her back against the door, taking the brunt of the force on his arm and fusing their lips together in a hard kiss. She gasped and then she was grasping at anything her hands could reach, trying to touch him all over. When he could barely breathe, Fred moved back to her neck, licking and sucking at her pulse point like a starving man. Hermione moaned and her head dropped back against the door. Her spine was tingling from Fred's kisses and flooding her brain with pleasure to the point where it almost hurt. Being with Ron had never felt like this. Not even close.
Fred pressed his hips into hers and she ground against him. His hands were moving from her face and hip down over the curve of her ass and he was lifting her up and moving her to the dresser. With their centers pressed together, Hermione could feel the heat that radiated from him. "God, Fred," she whispered.
He pulled back and she thought he was going to give her some sassy remark about it only being him, but he simply pulled his shirt over his head and stepped back into the circle of her legs. Moments later, Hermione had lost her shirt. She heard him mutter a quick Scourgify and noticed that the blood was gone from her arm. She couldn't even be impressed that he was doing wandless magic because his lips were tracing the edges of her bra and she lost the ability to think when he nipped at the swell of one breast.
"Merlin, Hermione," he groaned out as she bucked her hips into his when he nipped the other breast. "I had no idea..."
Restless, she reached behind and unhooked her bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the ground with only a slight flush of her chest to show that she was embarrassed. Fred, however, groaned and bent his head to capture one nipple in his mouth, rolling it around between his teeth and tongue, while he tweaked her other nipple and caressed her breast.
"Fuck," Hermione groaned, her hands fisting in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a sharp pinch of her nipple. "Please Fred, don't tease me."
Fred grinned at her then, pleased that he could reduce her to such language, and claimed her lips again in a flurry of teeth, tongue, and nibbling. She bit his bottom lip and his hands gripped her hips tightly, yanking her forward against him. When her fingers went to his pants and teased the skin underneath, Fred had had enough. "You're going to kill me," he groaned as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
"Like...wise," she gasped out as she bounced on the bed and helped him wiggle out of his pants. He yanked her pants down and off her body before covering her again. Skin on skin, with only a thin barrier of cloth beneath them, there was no denying the heavy hardness that pressed against her, nor the wetness from her own panties. And whether it was the liquid courage, or the delicious taste that was Fred alone, she didn't feel the usual tension that came with Ron being on top of her and pinning her down.
Experimentally, she lifted her hips and rocked into him, their moans combining and getting lost in each other. "I have to be inside you," Fred whispered, fingers dragging over her stomach and dipping into the waistband of her panties. Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice. She gathered her courage and stroked his erection, feeling another rush of wetness when Fred's eyes rolled back and he dropped his head to her shoulder while she pumped his shaft.
He stripped their underwear and dragged one nail up the inside of her thigh, then down the other. He settled over her, one hand between them teased her and guided himself to her entrance. The head of his cock rubbed against her folds and he groaned at the wetness that was already there. "Please," Hermione begged. "Please, please please." She was panting, squirming to try and get closer.
Slowly, he sunk into her, thick and hot, and her eyes rolled back in her head as they groaned in unison. Her muscles squeezed around him, already fluttering with the warning signs of an orgasm. His hand found her hair again, tangling in it and pulling her back so that she gasped and exposed her throat, shoving her breasts up into his chest. "Shit, Mione," he groaned, his hips slowly meeting hers for the first time. "You're so fucking tight."
Hermione felt like her chest was constructing so tightly that she was going to implode. She pulled his head down to kiss her and he responded eagerly, pouring all the hurt and the pain and desire into that kiss. He rocked his hips against her and grinned into the kiss when she sucked in a gasp. "More," she whispered so softly that he almost missed it.
"What was that?" he asked.
"More please more."
His speed increased, sweat breaking out on his body as he let go of her face and hitched her leg up around his waist so he could thrust even deeper inside. Hermione cried out and dug her fingers into Fred's back gasping out "Yes!" He responded in kind, unable to stop himself from saying, "Merlin Hermione, you feel so good around me. Fucking perfect." He bit her shoulder and felt her buck up and cry out as her orgasm ripped through her. "That's it love, cum for me." She squeezed around his cock so tightly that he thought he was going to die right there in her arms. Her hips snapped up and her walls caught the head of his cock in the most delicious way and Fred gave two finals thrusts before his orgasm washed over him, pulling from his center and spreading warmth to every corner of his body. He shuddered as Hermione dragged her nails lightly down his back and collapsed down on his elbows, pressing his sweaty forehead to hers.
After a few deep breaths, he rolled them both over so they were lying side by side and stroked her sweaty hair away from her face. Her lids were already closing, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion finally taking over, but he noticed that her eyes were a bit wet. He kissed her eyelids lightly, and whispered, "You're perfect, you are. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not."
She gently cupped his cheek and let him tuck them both into bed. For the first time since the War, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. But as she drifted off the sleep, the realization that she had just had sex with Fred Weasley, her ex-boyfriend's older brother, sunk in and she tensed slightly.
Half asleep, he pulled her closer and whispered into her hair, "Stop thinking, love."
Ten months later, Hermione tapped her quill against her parchment, glancing absently out her office window. How things had changed in her life! Ron had become a very successful Auror, and after apologizing to Hermione profusely so that his mother would stop sending Howlers to his work, they had both gone their separate ways. She still saw him at Sunday dinners, etc. but there was no spark, and they had both admitted that there hadn't been in a long time.
Harry and Ginny had just announced they were pregnant, so Molly was hell-bent on planning everything and was driving Ginny spare. George and Angelina got engaged a month ago and kept threatening to elope if Molly didn't stop butting in there too. All in all, Hermione's extended family was doing well. She stretched and popped her back, relieved to see that her work day was over. Pushing down the perfectionist within, Hermione solemnly swore to herself that she would come in early and finish up tomorrow.
The paper that had been the object of her obsessive focus today taunted her from the corner of her desk. She picked it up and read through the contents that she already knew by heart. Double checked. Three opinions. Her findings could not be more sound.
Grabbing her wand and her handbag, she left the Ministry and began her walk home. As she passed through Diagon Alley, she let her mind wander back to the days before the War, when everything had been shiny, new, and safe to her little girl eyes. She passed by shops, waved at shopkeepers, and smiled at a few ministry workers that she knew, pleasant yet purposeful in her course. Nothing was going to derail her today. Finally, she stopped in front of the one shop that mattered.
The colors hadn't faded over time, and it was still as assaulting on the eyes as ever, but Hermione had developed a fond love for this place and the utter chaos inside. It was certainly a fun contrast at the end of a long, boring day. "Are you just going to stand there all day?" a voice chirped. Hermione followed the sound to the front door, where a tall redhead stood leaning lazily against the door frame. "I know I'm gorgeous and all, but really, what will people think?"
Hermione laughed and reached out to affectionately hug him. "The whole town will be jealous, thinking I've got two Weasley twins mad about me at the same time."
George winked at her and looked suddenly tragic. "Ah Granger...in another life. If only I didn't love my fiancé so much. Curse her and her fetching ways!" He raised a fist and shouted to the sky, causing a few people to turn and look at him in amusement, before Hermione pushed him through the front door.
"Honestly George!" she chirped in her snottiest tone, "pull yourself together. If we all want to be together, you have to commit one hundred percent. Angelina is just another casualty."
George's eyes twinkled and he pulled her close, planting a kiss on the top of her head for good measure. "I like you. I think we'll keep you, Granger."
She squeezed him affectionately. "I like you too. Now, run along. I have things to do."
He grimaced. "Yes mum." With a wave, he left the shop, locking up behind him, and had apparated away.
Hermione jogged up the steps to the second story flat and pushed open the door. "George! I'm home!" she announced cheerily, but was instantly greeted by a horrifying stench from the kitchen. A clatter from said kitchen forced her back on task as a second red head of hair popped out. She feigned shock. "Oh goodness Fred! I'm so sorry…I thought you were gone. Is George around?"
Clad in an outrageous frilly pink apron, Fred's eyes narrowed at her and he sniffed. "Sorry Granger, but I'm afraid my uglier twin has left you to go be with the love of his life. Can I be of any assistance?"
She was trying not to laugh, or vomit, and instead made a big show of putting down her purse and things on the couch. "Well…" she hedged, waiting until he had almost snuck up on her before whirling around and squeezing him tightly. "I suppose you'll do."
As he bent his head and kissed her, taking his time and slowly claiming her as his own, Hermione realized how far they had come. The first month had been full of sweaty, passionate "trauma" sex, which had morphed into month two, with free days spent wandering around the shop and having sex on several restricted surfaces. By the third month, neither could ignore how much time they spent with each other, and they agreed to abolish the casual pretense of their relationship. They weren't fooling anyone. By the sixth month, Fred had accidentally let it slip that he was in love with her, and Hermione made him say it again and again while he (finally) made love to her. By the eighth month, they had moved in together, and here they were at month ten, pink apron and all.
"Thanks ever so much, love," Fred groused.
Hermione grinned, but caught a whiff of something in the kitchen and made a face. "What on earth are you cooking in there? A skunk?"
Fred frowned, obviously confused. "No? I made shepherd's pie." When she grimaced again, he raised an eyebrow. "It's one of your favorites?" He took a step back and his hand went to his pocket where he kept his wand. "Are you not my girlfriend?" His tone was teasing, but still slightly reserved. The War was never fair from their minds.
Hermione laughed and shook her head to put him at ease. "No, no, it's me. I promise."
"Prove it," Fred challenged playfully.
"Well I'm the only woman who has let you run around in my knickers and beg me to discipline you for not wearing a proper Hogwarts uniform," she shot back. His ears turned red and he let out an embarrassed laugh. "I'm also the only woman who has been pranked so often and let you live. Happy?"
"Knew it was you all along," he winked. "But seriously, if you're not in the mood for shepherd's pie, I can always make something else."
Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. I received some news that's been a bit…well..." She took a seat on the couch and dug out the piece of paper she had been carrying around all day. "Here."
Fred took it and sat next to her, his eyes searching hers before they even acknowledged the paper. "You alright?" She nodded toward the paper, indicating that he should read.
Hermione knew the exact moment that the news sunk it. Then, she watched as the love of her life read it again, his face a strange mixture of confusion and hope. Then, he looked up at her and asked, "Are you pranking me? Are you getting me back for that shampoo incident last month? Because I said I was really sorry and I wouldn't do it again for at least another year. And-"
Hermione cut off his babbling by taking his free hand in hers and shaking her head. "I'm not pranking you."
He stared in wonder, first at her, then at the paper. "But, I thought. You said-"
"I thought so too. I got multiple opinions and the only thing anyone can tell me is that in some rare cases, a couple possesses magic that is so perfectly bonded that it can, I suppose, transcend the will of science?" When Fred simply stared at the paper and didn't say anything, she asked, "Are you angry?"
That pulled him out of his trance. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hair, her cheeks, and her nose. "Merlin no! A bit shocked, but bloody hell, of course I'm excited, Mione."
She snuggled closer, fisting his shirt in both hands before leaning up to let him place kisses on her lips and eyelids. "I have another surprise," she hummed.
"Love, I don't think I can take much more tonight," Fred laughed, and she heard the distinct catch of some happy tears forming.
"You'll like this," she promised. Sitting up and looking deep into his eyes, she gave him a radiant smile and said, "They're twins."
He gaped at her for a long moment before he was shoving her down onto the couch and kissing her senseless. "They're…twins…..bloody…..brilliant…knew we…could…do it…love!" He was mumbling into her shoulder and she laughed again, breathing deeply and feeling so grateful for the rather painful events that had led her to this wonderful man that had healed not only her heart and parts of her mind, but also her body.
And then, she smelled it.
The horrid, revolting stench of one of her favorite dishes. She was sure she was going to vomit all over Fred. She pushed him away and sat up, trying to breathe through her mouth so she couldn't smell it. "Sorry," she told him sheepishly. "I really do appreciate you cooking tonight, but I swear if you don't get rid of that thing immediately, I'm going to puke."
Fred scrambled up, apron strings snapping wildly as he flew into the kitchen and immediately destroyed all evidence of the offending favorite. When he came back into the living room, he once again leaned against the doorframe and took in the lovely vision his girlfriend made while laying sprawled out on the couch. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too." She accio-d a blanket and tucked herself in, peeking out coyly. "Would you still love me if I asked you to go get me mint chocolate ice cream? I've been craving some all day."
Fred pulled off the apron and crossed over to kiss her on the forehead. "Of course love. Be right back."
"Um…about that. Would you mind bringing the ice cream and perhaps…some anchovies?" She blushed as the disgust momentarily flickered over his face. "I know, it's revolting but-"
"Say no more," Fred interrupted. "You don't want to know the horrid things mum ate when she was pregnant with Ginny." He was back in a flash, with mint ice cream, anchovies, and packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, which he had bought several of and had separated out all the dirt flavoured beans (just like he and George had for his mum). When Hermione had vowed never to eat them, Fred just shrugged and said they were there if she wanted them.
All the dirt beans were gone by the next morning.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! And yes, dirt is one of those weird pregnancy cravings that some women have. *shudders* Please feel free to leave a review!