Peace. A practically foreign concept. After nearly thirty years of on and off fighting with the most powerful dark wizard of all time, he had been defeated. Harry Potter, the hero of the wizarding world, had fulfilled the prophecy and had destroyed and conquered Voldemort and his eight horcruxes. The magical community had many issues to address regarding the ministry and the muggleborns it had abused and discriminated against, but for now, the afterglow of a war victorious was difficult to ignore, and the people of the wizarding world needed time to mourn their losses, while attempting to rebuild a once powerful empire. . .
Hermione Granger sat in a nearly empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express with naught but her two best friends in the entire world, one Mister Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, who together made up the famous "Golden Trio."
The young witch stared absently out the window with her knees drawn up to her stomach and a book on her lap, and twisted the ends of her light brown curls. The silence in the partition was not quite uncomfortable, but it reeked of nostalgia and things that could never be the same.
An awkward throat clearing disrupted the quiet, as Harry spoke up, "I expect we're almost there…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd really like to see Gin before we arrive though, so I'll see you guys in the Great Hall, yeah?"
The other two both nodded their heads noncommittally. Hermione went back to reading her book, but before long she realized that she had reread the same page numerous times without absorbing what she was seeing. She was happy for her friends, she really was. Sometimes she wished that she could have gone and married Ronald like everyone expected, but she was too caught up on a different Weasley to ever believe it would work between them.
Hermione had been delighted to hear that she would be Head Girl this year, but it did not hold the same appeal that it did for her younger self. She had always strived to be the best. After almost eight years of being discriminated against for her blood, she felt the need to prove herself to the biased purebloods that she dealt with every day. Since the war ended though, Hermione mostly felt tired. She had been on the run with Harry for close to a year, and she just wanted to keep her head down and finish her schooling with as little excitement as possible. As Head Girl, she was afforded the privilege of her own private dorm, which would allow for the quiet she so desperately needed. McGonagall would be giving her and the Head Boy, Blaise Zabini, a tour of their quarters before the Feast.
Realizing that the castle was fast approaching, Hermione gently nudged a dozing Ron to wake him, and then moved out to change into her school robes. When she was dressed and ready, they had arrived at the Hogsmede station, and the young woman strolled over to Zabini and they made their way silently to the gates ahead of everyone else.
Professor McGonagall met the pair just outside the Great Hall, and after leading them down a complicated path she directed the Head Students to their own private Corridor with Zabini's quarters at one end and Hermione's at the other.
"I must head back to the Hall to give the customary speech this evening, but I expect that I will be seeing a lot of you two this year." McGonagall said officially, but she softened towards Hermione when Zabini turned to examine his rooms and continued, "Miss Granger, I know this past year has been more difficult for you than most, and I would like you to know that you can come to me for anything you may need."
"Thank you Professor," Hermione responded quietly. "If it is okay with you, I would really like to sit this feast out." She paused, "I've been feeling a little under the weather and I think a rest before classes start tomorrow would be beneficial."
"Of course, Miss Granger, of course." McGonagall was all business once again. I will see you tomorrow at breakfast I presume?" At Hermione's nod she patted the girl on the shoulder and briskly walked back towards the Great Hall for the feast.
Hermione let out a breath that she didn't know she'd been holding, and made her way to her chambers for the first time. She opened her door after choosing her own password, Dittany, and walked into what was less a bedroom and more of a suite. She had a common room with a roaring fireplace, a rather spacious bathroom, and a sleeping room tucked into the corner. Upon entering she found that it contained a large bed made up with white and plum linens to match the rest of the area.
The witch sat on her bed and placed her head in her hands, attempting to control her nausea. A week or two prior she had been vomiting nonstop, but she had chalked it up to stress and possibly a stomach bug. She assumed it was coming back full force now because of the daunting task of being surrounded by those who treated her as a hero, when she felt even weaker than ever. It had only been three months since the final battle at the school, and the months preceding that were still a bit of a blur.
The Trio had returned to Grimmould Place for about three days before the dragon incident, and to Hermione, those were the best and worst days of the entire war.
Ron had attempted to reveal his romantic interests in Hermione, and she was forced to turn him down. She couldn't make herself love her best friend out of obligation alone, and was overwhelmed by his desire for her to explain why she couldn't just love him. Emotions had been running high, and she let slip rather loudly that she was in love with another. Ronald had demanded to know who it was, but the young woman had regained her senses and run upstairs before another word could be spoken. How could she explain that she had fallen in love with his older brother?
Hermione had wanted to tear out her hair and scream, but after a few moments her anger had deflated and she sank down against the wall, buried her head in her knees, and began to sob. She had cried for all that had happened to her, for the tragedy that followed Harry around like an ominous cloud, for not being able to love Ron like he loved her, and for the things that could never happen because of the godforsaken war that ripped their childhoods away.
At this moment in time, outside Sirius Black's old room at number twelve Grimmauld Place, she cried for Fred Weasley.
She couldn't remember when she had begun to love the young man, but she knew that her feelings were not deluded. She had been forced to grown up too fast, and while she was young in many ways, she knew that she loved the light that Fred carried around with him, even in the darkest of times. She had thought he was handsome from the moment they met, but she couldn't help but admire not only his appearance, but also his infectious laugh. His sense of humor. His relationship with his twin. The way his eyes lit up when he was happy. Hermione Granger had known it right then, that there was no going back. She was well and truly screwed. She was despairingly in love with Fred Weasley.
Hermione had made a decision at that moment. This could very well be the last time she would see any of her extended family and her close friends. Harry, Ron, and herself were setting out for Gringotts the next morning. Who knew what would happen after that? With this in mind Hermione had taken a deep breath and trudged up the final set of stairs to the Twins' room. She knew that George was out on a mission for the next few days, and that Fred had been charged with some Rest and Recuperation time to recover from his last task. When she knocked lightly on the door and found it slightly ajar, Hermione had pushed it open and noted with surprise that Fred was reading.
"Hermione?" Fred asked with a lopsided grin as he looked up from his reading, "What can I do for you love?"
Hermione tried to ignore the way her heart swooped with the term of endearment, and she finally met his eyes as hers left the floor. Fred had immediately realized that she was obviously distressed, and stood up and walked toward her with concern written all over his face.
"What's the matter Hermione? Are you hurt?" He searched her face as his hands gripped her shoulders lightly, trying to get a better look at her.
Hermione had all but lost her nerve, but she gave him a watery smile, and said clearly, "I could die tomorrow, you know."
Fred looked shocked at her proclamation, and he took her into his arms in a hug, unknowingly giving her the only comfort that she desired.
"Hermione, love please don't talk like that. I know it's true, trust me I know. But I can't bear to hear you say it." Fred looked genuinely distressed as he said this and he pulled away from Hermione to brush some wayward curls out of her eyes.
Hermione had been shaking by this point, but she needed to explain the reason she had come up to the attic.
"Fred." She cut him off, "I could die tomorrow. And I don't want to have any regrets."
He gazed at her, perplexed, and realized for the first time that her slight frame was trembling against his.
"Hermione, your scaring me love. What's wrong? What don't you want to regret?" Fred questioned almost frantically.
Hermione took a deep breath, stepped closer to him, and braced herself for the imminent rejection before closing the distance between them. Before their lips touched she whispered an answer to Fred's question. "This."
She had then closed the remaining distance between them and pressed her lips softly against Fred's. He immediately froze, his back going ramrod straight. Just as she was about to pull away, he cupped her chin and held her in place, his lips beginning to move against hers. She gasped at his response, and as her lips parted Fred snaked his tongue into her mouth, and began to coax hers to move in an age old dance with his own, reminding Hermione that he was much more experienced at this than she was.
Fred pulled back for a moment to level a penetrating gaze into her honey eyes.
"Hermione," He said quietly, his voice raspy and more than a little wrecked, "What are you doing?"
"I- I just needed…" She had paused, searching for the right words, "Fred Weasley, I might die tomorrow, and I don't want to have any regrets. Please, just- can I stay the night?" Hermione made sure her implications were clear by the way she looked up at him from under her lashes.
"Hermione… Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want? With me? Your best friend's silly brother? Who could also die tomorrow?" Fred had wanted to make sure that she knew what she was asking.
"I really couldn't imagine… giving this to anyone else…" She trailed off, blushing.
Catching her wording, he responded "Giving it? You mean… you've never…?
"Um, not exactly, no…" she answered, wondering why he didn't assume that this would be her first time.
"But, love, you're beautiful." Fred punctuated this with a kiss to display his honesty. "You're smart." Another kiss. "You're a wicked dueler." He kissed her again. "Honestly, you've grown into an extraordinary witch, Hermione. And truthfully, I would be honored to be your first."
Hermione could not believe that these words were being spoken by anyone, let alone Fred Weasley, the young man who had stolen her heart. For one night, one night before the impending doom of the morrow, Hermione decided to ignore the fact that Fred's feelings did not run as deeply as her own, and to give the only thing she had to offer, in exchange for one night to give in to her feelings.
As soon as the young witch nodded, Fred's lips descended upon her own. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and when she granted him access he explored her mouth, and caressed her tongue, his hands moving to her hips with a quiet moan. She moved one of her hands daringly close to his belt, but switched directions and shyly snaked her fingers up under his shirt. Fred got the message, and pulled back for a moment to discard his shirt, leaving his pale and sculpted torso uncovered for Hermione's eyes to drink in hungrily in the dim moonlit room. She tentatively touched his abdomen, and his muscles quivered with restraint as she stroked his smooth flesh.
Things began to escalate quickly, and before Hermione knew it, she and Fred were down to their underthings, and he took a step back to admire her pale form. He reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and as he slid it off her shoulders, she couldn't resist the urge to cover herself.
"Shh, love, you're perfect" Fred soothed, and soon enough he coaxed her hands away from her breasts, and his own replaced them. Moments later Fred had lowered her down onto his bed, and was placing wet, open mouthed kissed on her neck and chest. He dragged her knickers down her smooth legs, and after stepping out of his boxers he looked up at her for confirmation that she was ready.
Hermione nodded at him and gasped as he used his fingers to prepare her for himself. Once he was sure that she was ready, he kissed her bruised lips and slid inside with one thrust, holding still while she adjusted to the feeling, and wiping a stray tear from her cheek as he broke her barrier. As the minutes dragged on, the only sounds in the room were breathless moans and skin sliding on skin. As Fred reached his climax he gathered Hermione in his arms and helped her the rest of the way there. He came hard inside her, at the same time she did, her walls clenching around him, and they both fell to the bed, tangled up in each other, spent. The fell asleep soon after, but when Fred woke in the morning, Hermione was gone not only from his bed, but from Headquarters in general, as the trio left to continue their quest.
Hermione reminisced about that night as she moved to lay in her bed. She had of course, spoken to Fred since the battle, but only in passing, and it was relatively awkward and strained. Her feelings had not changed since that night, but she accepted that he had never felt the same way. She resolved to spend as little time as possible around her favorite ginger, and was happy to be back at Hogwarts for this reason. With nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, Hermione fell into a fitful sleep.
The morning came about in a hurry, and Hermione rushed to shower and eat some toast before heading to the great hall. She was rather excited to discover who the new teachers would be this year, as many of her previous professors had retired or been killed during the war.
Hermione was just about to pull on her school skirt when a sudden bout of nausea had her running for the bathroom. She emptied the contents of her stomach in the toilet and rested her head on the cool tiles of the wall before slowly standing up and finishing her morning routine. She had become rather used to this cycle of getting sick every time she ate, but it had improved over the last week. She dressed quickly and made her way to the Hall after brushing her teeth.
When she arrived at the Gryffindor table she sat with Harry and Ron, catching them up on her new quarters and watching Ron stuff his face with every possible breakfast food. She sighed when she looked at her schedule and saw that she had potions first thing, but vowed to start her day with a positive attitude, regardless of her churning stomach.
As she and the boys made their way to the dungeons, she noticed that they were among the last students there. Upon entering the classroom, Hermione realized two things simultaneously.
Professor Slughorn had retired from his position as Potions Master.
In his place, was Fred Weasley.