Author's Note: This is for the Twin Exchange's December gift fics. I hope I did my prompts justice even if the content is a little bittersweet. I honestly don't know what happened. I tried for something fluffy, but it definitely didn't go that way once my fingers started flying around the keyboard. I'm not sure I've ever accidentally written something so angsty before, so heads up on that. :)
Prompter: Love From a Muggle.
Paring: Fred/Hermione or Ron/Hermione – Somehow I managed both. :)
Prompt: Christmas at Hogwarts, Snow Falling, Mistletoe
Quote: "He's like a brother to me. That will NEVER happen." and "It's a Weasley. Nothing good ever comes from a Weasley-OUCH!"
…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…
"No Coincidence, No Mistakes"
…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…
The resounding thud of the heavy wooden door hitting the stone castle wall punctuated the thunderous applause by mere seconds. The rush of the moment, the thrill which had come over her as the poisonous holiday plant sprouted from the ceiling above her head while she found herself looking into her friend's oddly caring eyes had been quickly replaced by a cacophony of other emotions, not one of which was pleasant.
As ironic a mistress as Fate seemed to be among the Gryffindors on that particular day, Hermione and Ron had been caught in their compromising position outside of the Great Hall by none other than the savior of the wizarding world himself. In Harry's defense, however, he had innocently been following his best friends back to their common room after lunch. He had no idea what awaited him as he hastily scurried from the room in an effort to catch up, clumsily drawing attention to the scene unfolding underneath the mistletoe for all of Hogwarts to see.
The chorus of cheers and catcalls incited a Weasley blush to bloom on Ron's cheeks that would live in infamy. At least that was what Ginny had explained to Hermione as the red-headed witch began to pack her things for their holiday trek back to the Burrow. Boarding the train in a few short hours, the regular seventh and returning eighth year students would be embarking on their final Christmas break from school, an absence Hermione was counting on as she too prepared to make a different sort of journey that afternoon.
"You didn't need to run off like that, you know?" Ginny clucked with the shake of her head, struggling to shut her over-stuffed trunk. "Ron could have used some back up after you high-tailed it to the common room, leaving him with half the bloody school commenting on the possibility of you guys getting together. It's all anyone could talk about."
"Yeah," Hermione said, cowed slightly still by the pressure she had felt to get as far away from Ron's grasp as she could. "I'll apologize later," she murmured into her knees, arms drawn tightly around her legs in a makeshift self-made hug. It was a desperate effort to find a modicum of comfort in her hour of quiet distress, unable to express to anyone the reason for her flighty behavior. It wasn't that she didn't feel a thrill ripple through her body the moment their lips had met; it was in spite of it that drove her to flee Ron's embrace beneath the blasted mistletoe.
"Still planning to lag behind then?" Ginny asked, her tone understandably suspicious.
With a ragged breath, the frazzled witch simply nodded her reply before scooting off her burgundy-colored bed sheets. With a smile that probably looked more manic than anything considering the emotional storm Hermione was currently battling, she headed to the door with deliberately taken steps, careful to maintain a speed that would not make it seem like she was running away again even though she was doing exactly that.
With a groan for the unwanted attention she'd face by sitting in the common room, Hermione put on a brave face and chose to wait out the departing students with a bitter expression, wordlessly conveying their opinions on the matter of a relationship between her and Ron were not welcomed or appreciated. It wasn't too difficult after word had spread throughout the dormitory, a by-product of her icy glare the moment Lavender sat down beside her to undoubtedly provide some needless commentary.
Staring unfocusedly into the roaring fire, Hermione let the heat abate her anger, hypnotizing herself with the dancing flames burning the wood to ash and ember. She had almost pulled out of her emotional tailspin when her guilt returned full-force. The moment Ron and Harry pulled their trunks through the door, the former of which had returned to blushing the moment his eyes briefly locked on hers. It was too difficult to look at him, seeing his confusion written so plainly on his face.
She averted her gaze to the fire almost immediately, and with a timid wave and a promise to meet up with them later Hermione left the tower in favor of moving to the library. She was certain she could find some solace there, getting lost amongst the stacks to wait out the rest of those taking the train, not wanting to answer any more questions about her apparent "love affair" with Ronald Weasley.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, time she had spent staring blankly at one inconsequential book or another, Hermione left what those who knew her would assume to be her favorite place in favor of seeking out the only location she could ever find comfort in these days. Dodging a few straggling students who appeared to be staying the holidays, Hermione soon found herself outside, looking upon a picturesque scene that was worthy of a lingering gaze.
There was a freshly fallen layer of fluffy whiteness coating the familiar walk to her favorite spot. Her heels crunched into the ground as she waded through the drifts, arriving at her destination after several minutes of her downhill journey. With a glance over her shoulder at the solitary trail of footprints she had left in the fallen snow leading to this particular spot, the implications of which pained her more than most could fathom, Hermione sighed deeply and quickly found the dark brown knot high upon the trunk of the tree. Making fast work of the powerful ward she had used to conceal her most treasured belonging within the old oak, she removed the knot to reveal her makeshift hiding place. Pulling the small velvet-encased bundle from the wood, with a plop she fell into the snow at the base of the tree, helplessly reminiscing as a fresh wave of snowflakes began to fall around her.
The reel of bittersweet imagery in her head provoked the all too familiar steady stream of pain-filled tears to begin rolling down her cheeks. Her guilt over the day's events consumed her fully now that she was within the privacy of this nearly sacred place as scenes of a beautiful red-headed mischief-maker played on in her mind. The breathless whimpers she was making were beginning to overpower the silence of the usually tranquil place. As much as she hated to disrupt it in anyway, it was a soul-deep response which happened every time she came there. It was the result of the loss she felt in her heart being allowed to take hold; the hurt she was forced to keep hidden anywhere outside of the security found under the old oak tree.
She could still see him vividly in her mind's eye, the way he was the last time they met in their secret place. His always steady, skill and callused hands gripped hers the moment he found her reading in exactly the same spot she currently sat far removed from the troubles of their world leading up to the war.
"If I didn't know any better, I might think you were trying to avoid me, 'Mione," Fred had drawled, teasing a curl on her shoulder with a single finger. It was a gesture that seemed far more erotic than it should have, but at that point their interactions had all quickly devolved into a sexual frenzy at even the slightest opportunity. "What else could I possibly imagine when I find you here without having received an invitation to follow?"
With the confidence that she knew he would follow her there the same as he always did, she smirked at him. The incontrovertible evidence of this fact was clearly displayed in the layer upon layer of two distinctly different trails of footprints trodden into the snow leading up to their spot, indicating just how many times he had sought her out beneath the tree with or without invitation.
"Did it ever occur to you that was by design, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione quipped haughtily, remarkably at ease with being the object of his fiery gaze. She always felt so daring with him, so free, so unlike herself. She loved every minute of it, though she hadn't always felt that way.
When they had first noticed the mysterious spark which had ignited between them, the root of which they had determined to be at some point during the initial creation of the DA, it had been quite by accident, merely the consequence of proximity and circumstance. At least that was what Hermione had believed when she had bumped into Fred in an otherwise empty corridor late after a detention with Umbridge during her fifth year. He asked if she wanted to practice some defensive spells with him while George was off snogging some Ravenclaw. Since neither of them seemed ready for bed, despite the threat of suffering another punishment under the blood-quill, Hermione had agreed without hesitation.
That evening spent running about the castle dodging Filch and momentarily forgetting to stress over the ever-increasing dangers they faced as friends of Harry Potter, a whirlwind romance had been created. Though she had entered into it kicking and screaming once the harsh light of day gave her overly rational brain a chance to reason away the wild, inexplicable connection she felt to Fred Weasley.
"Why do you insist on denying us, love?" he asked one evening when he finally tracked Hermione down in a small alcove behind a tapestry. With his hand held firmly against her chin, he forced her eyes to meet his with the gentlest touch, so persuasive in its sincerity that her resolve almost faltered.
"We're too opposite, too strange to make a logical match even if I want it. It will never work, never last," she cried as she slipped from his grip, her heart sinking further as he reluctantly let her walk away.
Hours later, when she knew without a doubt she had made a mistake she would never admit to another soul for fear of being called out on her undeniable stupidity, Hermione found herself beneath the oak tree once again. It was a place Fred had showed her that first night, a secluded spot he'd discovered you could marvel at the serenity of the night sky without being seen from the school. The giant oak had provided a safe haven from prying eyes, protected them from being discovered as they readied themselves for the inevitable battles of the future while their fragilr relationship was given a chance to bloom.
Moments after her arrival that night she denied him, the night things were forced to change, he had found her standing there absently caressing the rough bark. Despite his eyes being slightly reddened from grief, Fred quickly resumed his typical demeanor and laughed in his melodious, light-hearted way. "I suppose we aren't so different after all, love. Not if this is the first place we both think to go." He gave her a challenging look then, one more heated than perhaps any other she had seen from him in the entire history of their acquaintance.
She balked, unable to deny what she knew to be true – her pragmatic brain be damned. "How do you know it isn't simply a coincidence, a lack of other locations which would suit our need to be left alone without evoking any questions we'd rather not answer?" she asked, gasping as he suddenly pulled her close to his body without preamble.
Fred kissed her soundly, almost rough in his aggrieved demeanor as if to either shut her up or to simply convince her of this truth he seemed to be keenly aware. Any protestation she had previously felt died on her lips in that instant. Easily swayed to see the reality she had stubbornly attempted to reject, Hermione was taken over by an element of herself she never acknowledged before. Desire –for him, for them- simply won out over any hesitation which had driven the initial wedge between them. She would be a fool to deny either of them this bliss, and Hermione Granger would never allow herself to be the fool.
"It isn't coincidence that I found you here, you know. It can't be because I wanted to find you. And I think you wanted to be found," Fred said with a smirk she couldn't see but felt as he laid kiss after kiss against the tender skin of her throat. "I believe my dedication disproves us as coincidence. In fact, I insist."
He was right of course, that theirs was something more complex and invigorating than simple happenstance, something he loved to mention as they continued to meet beneath the large oak tree every chance they could. Maintaining their clandestine relationship with such great success that only his twin was aware, they hid their love from anyone who could possibly harm it. In the safety of their spot, sheltered by the massive wooden structure whose limbs seemed to wrap around them, they experienced everything they could, knowing the shadows of war were quickly encroaching upon their sanctuary, the sanctity of their hidden love.
Barely aware of her tears falling more freely as she remembered the love in his touch, recalled the scent of his skin pressed against hers so wantonly, Hermione ran her thumb along the velvet pouch she had removed from the tree. Grateful to feel the familiar hard stone contained within, pulling the cords of the tiny purse, she allowed the rock to fall into her open palm before she turned it thrice in hand. With her eyes held firmly shut, Hermione only opened them once she felt enveloped by his presence, knowing he was there by the prickle of her war-hardened nerves creating tingling gooseflesh on her arms.
With a bravery she could hardly fathom even in the wake of the final battle fought less than a year before, Hermione was still in awe every time she was able to look upon her dead lover's face. It felt like staring into the sun, beautiful and dangerous. With the awkward conversation looming over her, her normal joy when gazing into Fred's eyes –even the Resurrection Stone's magically created facsimile- was completely hindered by her guilt.
"I heard about what happened today... with Ron," he said, always quick and to the point.
"I can explain, Fred," she urged, eyes welling with tears as her irrepressible sobs renewed.
"There's no need to explain. 'Mistletoe,' Peeves said," he countered, his face pained but resolute. "I need you to know that it's okay though, Hermione. It's okay to let me go now."
"I can't," she whispered to the ephemera, clutching the stone in her hand like it was her only lifeline. Her chilly fingers turned white under the pressure of her grip, red chapped fingertips heating up as she pressed the rock harshly into her palm.
He shook his head disapprovingly, far too similar to her own "prefect expression" as he had deemed it whenever she scowled. "You must," he whispered, drawing intimately close as the echo of his spirit made her shiver just the same as he once had in the flesh. "You must live… You promised," he chastised.
"I promised a lot of things," she quipped bitingly. "And so did you."
Fred snickered slightly before shrugging as he raised a hand to her face in spite of the futility, longing to brush away the tears streaming down her reddened cheeks if only symbolically. "Sorry about that, love. I did try my best. Surely that must count for something."
"I kissed Ron that day too, you know?" Hermione cried out, hating herself for never mentioning her indiscretion on any previous encounter since his death. "The day you d-died. We got caught up in the moment, honestly. It was just a mistake and..."
"There are no mistakes, remember? I thought we determined that together," he spoke into her slightly parted lips, wishing they could meet, looking like he was dying all over again because he was unable. He let his hand fall to his side with regret clearly building in his eyes.
It killed her to admit it even to herself, but Hermione was grateful he had drawn back from his purely symbolic comfort. Fred's intimate gesture had been completely in vain, the kindness of which was making the sting of the situation hurt that much more cruelly. Typifying his wonderful nature, he tilted his head in understanding. "Well, I'm glad you did it," Fred laughed awkwardly as her head shot up in shocked response.
Seeing the disbelief in her eyes, Fred continued with a smirk. "Would have punched his face bloody had I not gotten crushed by that wall of course, but I suppose it's for the best… things being what they are. Especially between you and him."
She wiped her eyes on the back of her already dampened sleeve, knowing it wasn't going to help much to dry her tears when so many had already collected there. With a surge of anger flaring from deep within, she was determined to fight him on this point at the very least. Calming herself now that she had cause, knowing she couldn't argue her point very well with all the blubbering she was doing, she stated in defiance, "Ron? He's like a brother to me. That will NEVER happen."
"It already has happened, love. You're just once again being too stubborn to see it yet." Hermione knew he had chosen his words precisely, referring to a similar accusation he had once claimed her doing with him. Bitter over the inkling of awareness that Fred was once again correct, she looked to the ground beneath his somewhat translucent feet with a grimace.
"Please, promise me you'll stop doing this to yourself," Fred said softly, his voice catching as he tried to hide his wince at his own words. "You are the only thing keeping me here, did you know that?"
"George?" she tested heatedly, firm in her obstinate denial that she alone was keeping him earth-bound.
Fred shook his head sadly. "Georgie and I made peace with our decision to join the Order a long time ago. We knew the risks from the beginning, all that it entailed."
"But he's lost without you," she reasoned. "His Patronus is gone."
"It isn't gone. He's just misplaced it for the moment," he responded quickly, as if he had expected this argument. "Besides, I have it on good authority Angelina has been seeing to him. He'll be fine. I'm sure of it. It's you I'm worried about, my stubborn little witch."
"This isn't goodbye no matter what you say, Fred Weasley. I will always love you," she declared emphatically, desperate to make him see reason.
"You can love me and still live a full life… a life filled with love even if it is for someone else," he countered, his voice shaky as he tried to convince his determined witch.
"Pawning me off, I see," she teased in the way she knew he loved, wanting to see a glimmer of their former banter make him smile once more despite the way it made her feel like she was losing him all over again. "Have someone in mind, do you?"
"You know I do. You do too if I'm not mistaken by the blush of your cheeks," he remarked just as quickly, happy for the change in tone. He always was more inclined to mask a serious conversation in playful commentary, making his point through roundabout innuendo and veiled-humor.
"It feels like betrayal," she whimpered again, her face falling as she was barely able to keep the tears at bay even though she'd finally managed to get them to stop. Her cheeks hurt where the crisp air had frozen her tears to her face, but it was a sting she welcomed, one that made the truth more real to her as the pain she felt throughout her being seemed fuzzy and muted without it.
"It's not betrayal when you have my blessing, love. You do, by the way, have my blessing," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he attempted to convince them both. "In fact," he said, recovering his playful façade quickly, "The next time I see you it better be after you've had your first Weasley baby."
"Come now, Fred," Hermione said, fighting the ache in her heart through a strained laugh of her own, "Why would you think I would go and do something silly like that?"
"What? Have a Weasley?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed.
"I mean, it's a Weasley. Nothing good ever comes from a Weasley - Ouch, Fred," she screamed as she hit the ground, falling backwards after his ghostly apparition charged her in mock anger. She laughed in spite of herself, still clinging to things that should have been even though the reality of her new world without him seemed to be crashing down upon her.
His display of dramatics somehow managed to lighten the mood between them considerably, providing another opportunity to relish in each other's company the way things always came so effortlessly beneath their tree. Looking up at him from the ground as the snowflakes began to collect in the halo of hair surrounding her face, she sighed while patting the ground beside her in invitation.
"Oh alright, you win," she said with a defeated expression meant to convey her exasperation. "If things had been different, if things had gone the other way I would have expected the same from you. I suppose I have to try to keep my promise… since you insist."
"Of course I insist," he said with a bittersweet smile as he sat down beside her, nestling as close as he possibly could. "I always do, my love."
…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…ooo000OOO000ooo…
Sorry if this was a tad on the sad side. For everyone's peace of mind we can just pretend this was part of canon and Hermione and Ron got married and everyone was okay with things in the end (well, except Fred I guess). In fact, this is the first and only epilogue compliant thing I've ever written. I'll take that as a small success since I think I managed to bum everyone out with this.