prompt; blood

pairings; one-sided Fred/Hermione; implied one-sided Ron/Hermione


Fred remembered red mixing with the water in the sink after he fumbled a knife. He remembered swearing a few times. Next he knew she was holding his hand in both of hers as she wrapped a towel around it.

His mind seemed too aware of her hands. Her fingers were warm, in contrast to his, which were wet and getting colder the longer they were exposed to the air; every tiny line on her palm stood out as it brushed against his wrist briefly. Was that a fingernail a moment ago? Oh hell...

He wasn't going to act like a naïve kid about it; he wasn't going to start insisting he was sick, or anything other than what he was. Because he wasn't naïve, and he wasn't stupid. He was sixteen; he'd long since discovered the wonders of the opposite sex and all the odd little feelings that came along with them. He was well aware that he'd begun noticing her more and more over the summer, and that her growth into a teen was going very well. She was pretty now; as a child she'd been the kind-of-cute know-it-all, now she was the know-it-all with nice skin, endearingly bushy hair, and an adorable—if large—smile.

And she was also the object of his little brother's affection. Even if said brother was apparently just noticing girls, and being very naïve and very stupid about it indeed.

Maybe Fred had recognized his own feelings for one Hermione Granger, but recognizing Ron's, as well, stopped him from making a move and drove him just a little insane.

So he thanked her for the towel and left the room, briefly tempted to kiss her furrowed brow or frowning lips, but resisting.