Written for - The Pairing Boot Camp Challenge, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Prompts - (word) wanting, (scenario) fighting against racial prejudice in the magical world.

Summary - Hermione wants so badly to pretend S.P.E.W. isn't about race. [ Pre-Hermione/Fred, Black Hermione ]

Word Count - 1,071

Notes - My Hermione is black and there is nothing you can do about it. And, while he's not in this fic, rest assured Harry's in this world being an Indian bisexual disaster and living his best life.

Hermione wants to say that she stays up for far too long on a Tuesday night because she feels a sense of purpose, a need to free the house elves. She doesn't want to admit to something selfish, looking at the stack of brightly colored hats and socks on the table in the common room.

Sometimes, Dean Thomas will sit across from her, pick up a pair of her knitting needles without hesitation and ask for a ball of yarn. He'll tell her stories of his old, muggle school from before Hogwarts, or his friends he only gets to see over breaks. After finishing a scarf or two, he stands up, wishes her a good rest of her day, and goes off to find Seamus or Lavender.

"We weren't treated very well either," Parvati said the first time she helped, sitting across from Hermione and holding her own pair of knitting needles. "Well, all of Asia was treated pretty poorly, really. Not just us." She never stays too long, she gets frustrated easily with creative ventures, but she'll add a hat or two to the pile while providing Hermione with all the gossip she could possibly need.

Angelina tried helping once, but was hopelessly confused in her foray into creating a sock. Quite often she'll bring Alicia, or other members of the Quidditch team, and they'll talk to Hermione as she knits. Or, more likely, the lot of them will go up in uproarious debate and she'll be squished in between George and Katie as they shout.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Fred asks after one of those days, his face flushed from yelling at his brother and hair wild from flying. He's tapping the side of his thumb to his leg, but seems otherwise happy and exhausted. "My mom never taught me because she was afraid we'd do something to her yarn."

"You've also got way too short an attention span," Hermione says, rooting around in her bag to find a second pair of knitting needles. She finds them and brandishes them with a smile and a flourish. "Welcome to Hermione's Knitting Boot Camp. Don't screw it up."

Fred grins at her as he takes the needles from her hand. "I'll try my best."

"I'm sure you will," Hermione says. She fishes around her bag again, this time for appropriate yarn. She hands him a bright purple ball that she hadn't used before because she found the color just a bit too eyesearing. He takes it with little hesitation, and sits down on the floor in front of Hermione as she directs him how to start a project.

It's not too long until their two of the last people in the common room, excluding a group of nostalgic 7th Years reminiscing at a table and two 2nd Years sitting just a little too close for twelve year olds.

Fred yawns and Hermione realizes suddenly, as her entire side shifts, just how close the two of them are sitting.

About thirty minutes prior, Fred had started complaining about his back and, with a roll of her eyes and a grand gesture of how much it pained her, she moved over so he could sit next to her. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, the two of them crushed into a single chair and overheating, she wondered if she had been completely accurate with herself.

"Alright?" Hermione asks lightly, and Fred brandishes his work in front of him with a tired and accomplished smile. He's about a halfway through a lumpy scarf, but you would assume that he had just finished his first perfect sweater by the way his eyes are all scrunched up. She smiles too, without really thinking about it.

"I'm perfect, love," he says. "Just wonderful."

"I'm glad," Hermione says. "You know, when you said you wanted to learn how to knit, I thought you would get bored of it."

"Nah," Fred says. "Nothing is boring with you at my side." He grins. "Quite literally, in this case!"

Hermione huffs, and jabs him with her elbow. "You're such a dork."

Fred reaches his limbs out, his feet pointed, arms raised to the sky, and back arched. He looks almost like a cat. "Maybe so," he says, with another yawn. "Hey, I've been wanting to ask you why you're doing this."

Hermione stiffens, and, well, apparently Fred can feel it because he starts backtracking emphatically and immediately.

"No, Fred, it's fine," she says, and she wants to say it doesn't hurt to say the statement outloud. That it's not difficult to put it to words, but she feels a deep seated pain in her chest as she admits: "I don't know, I guess it's a lifetime full of being oppressed."

"Oh," Fred says.

"Yeah. Not many people look like me around here, if you know what I mean," she says. And, well, now she can't stop speaking. "Not a lot of kids with textured hair and dark skin. Especially not muggleborns."

Fred hums, in agreement, Hermione hopes, and he begins nodding his head. After her self imposed pause, Fread, almost sadly, says, "Are you knitting tomorrow, too?"

Hermione nods. "I'm trying to make enough for all of the house elves in the kitchens," she says.

"Alright, well, make sure you bring an extra pair of needles again tomorrow," he says, handing her his half finished scarf. "I don't know if I'll be able to finish this, but can you bring this too?"

"Of course," Hermione says. "Are you…?"

"Helping you," Fred says, standing up and attempting to crack his back again. "Yep."

Hermione watches him in silence for a moment as he gathers the rest of his stuff in his arms. "I'll see you tomorrow then, huh?"

"You will," Fred says. He pauses in front of her chair before actually leaving. "You know, I think you're pretty badass."

Hermione smiles up at him and lifts a hand up, palm facing him. He rest his own palm against hers, intertwining their fingers. He runs his thumb over her hand for a moment, then they drop their hands, the both of them smiling, and tired, and accomplished, and ready for tomorrow.

"I'll see you later," Fred says.

"See you tomorrow," Hermione says, and Fred leaves back up the dorm stairs.

Hermione looks down at her hand and the lumpy purple scarf, and she smiles.