They had nothing in common.
She was a bookworm. He was a joker.
She thought rules were meant to be followed. He was keener on seeing just how many he could break.
Life was serious to her. For him, everything had a laugh value.
Hermione Granger and Fred Weasley had nothing in common.
A friendship of sorts formed years removed from their Hogwarts days. No longer did her need to be the smartest in the room bother Fred, and in turn, the desire to slap him upside the head whenever he had a witty comment at someone else's expense had dissipated. They needed each other; it was as simple as that. Heartbreaks ran deep between the pair. No, not from each other, but from outside sources. Namely Ron Weasley and Angelina Johnson. Both had left Hermione and Fred for other people deep within their own circles.
It was opposing assumptions, on both parties' part, that led the unlikely pair into an even more unlikely alliance. Christmas at the Burrow had become a longstanding tradition. Since the break up, Hermione assumed her presence would no longer be required at the gathering, and she had little desire to see her ex-boyfriend with Lavender Brown hanging on his arm and every word. Fred, on the hand, as a member of the family, had no excuse. He'd be forced to sit there, pretending to be happy and in the Christmas spirit, while his ex clung to his twin.
On this particular Christmas, Hermione was content to curl up on her couch with a book, a glass of wine, and the roaring fire. Fred, however, had other plans for her.
"Come to the Burrow with me," he suggested, pulling the worn, leather bound book from her hands, closing it, and placing it on a stack of similar looking volumes on the coffee table.
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at the jovial red head. "I don't know if you remember, but I no longer have any ties to your family. I'd be completely out of place, and it would be awkward."
Fred shrugged. "I'll be there. We'll stick together. We can throw stuff at Ron when mum isn't looking. Imagine what a great drinking game Lavender could make. Every time she calls him Won-Won we take a drink." She watched as he half-pulled a bottle of Ogden's finest from the inside pocket of the coat he still wore.
A small, tinkling laugh escaped the brunette's lips. "We'll be piss drunk within half an hour," she declared, but then her face turned serious. "Angelina is going to be there, too, isn't she? With George."
Fred could feel the smile wither from his lips. "Yeah," he answered, his fingers fiddling with a ripped hem on his shirt. "But I have to be there, and everyone'll have someone. Harry's with Ginny, Bill's coming with Fleur, Ron's got Lav, Mum and Dad have each other...you see where I'm going with this," he added, stopping just short of naming that one couple he couldn't bring himself to name. A look of defeat spread across his brown eyes that usually held a twinkle of delight.
"Fine, I'll go," Hermione conceded, glad that a smile returned to her friend's face. "But the second things get uncomfortable we're leaving - the both of us."
And that was how it started - one little family get together. From that night on, everything one did the other was around for. Birthday parties, family picnics, store events were all spent with them side by side. Hermione introduced Fred to the wonders of television, only to find him with eyes glued to the screen when she awoke the next morning. Fred had started to ask her opinion on the latest Weasley Wizard Wheezes product, only to tune her out when she got to the part in her speech about its potential to take someone's eye out. There was always a smile on their faces when they were in contact.
Mrs. Weasley was the first to question the goings on between the couple. It was always the little things that caught her attention - a casual hand on a knee, private whispers that led to secretive smiles, the protective look in Fred's eyes when Ron spoke to Hermione.
"So, what is this between you and Hermione?" Molly inquired, cornering her son in the kitchen. It was a question that was always answered with a shrug and "we're just friends."
********
"Just stay with us," Fred urged, rereading the eviction notice that was the latest source of Hermione's stress.
The young witch guffawed. "I can't live with you. First off, there's no room for me, what with the mess and piles of junk that cover every surface. Two, this is a two bedroom apartment, and sorry I'm not sleeping on that lump of fabric you call a couch. Three, one of us will go insane, and I don't plan for it to be me."
Fred pulled his wand from his inside pocket, and as Hermione's tirade continued, little flicks of the wand disappeared the mess that cluttered the living room. Another flourish and the once lumpy couch straightened itself out, a set of sheets and blankets appearing to make up a bed. "Are you quite finished yet, my dear?" he inquired, an eyebrow cocked. Hermione's mouth closed as she looked around the room, curls flying in each direction. She nodded. "Good, I'll take the couch. The sheets on my bed are clean, so there's nothing to worry about."
"I can't take your bed from you," Hermione mumbled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You'll never fit on that couch."
Fred's stomach fluttered at the contact. His arms reached around her back, hands connecting together. "Magic, Hermione. It's no problem, really. I could sleep in George's room if the couch gets too uncomfortable."
"Or I could take it," she suggested. "I'd at least fit."
Fred placed a soft kiss on her forehead before pulling out of her grasp. "There's no way I'm winning this one, is there?" Hermione shook her head, smiling at him. "Fine, but when you have a bad dream don't expect me to let you climb into my bed."
It was a thunderstorm three nights later that had Hermione climbing under Fred's blankets. She shook his shoulder to get his attention, her look wordlessly conveying her fear of the loud crashes and bright flashes outside. He'd held the covers back, signaling her to get in, before covering her with the duvet. "Good night, Granger," he whispered into the darkness. And so they'd slept that way for the duration of her stay.
When George asked about it the next morning over breakfast, Hermione shrugged. "We're friends."
********
"She needs a place to live, Ron," Fred said for the tenth time as he restocked the shelves of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "I wasn't going to just tell her to figure it out on her own. We're--"
"Friends," Ron finished. "Yeah, I've heard that from the both of you. Why didn't she just talk to Mum about staying at the house?"
"Because 37 people live in that house," Fred retorted. "She'd never get a moment's privacy."
Ron nodded, silently agreeing. "So, you and Hermione seem to have gotten pretty close," he said after a few moments of silent thought.
Fred shrugged, but Ron continued before he could respond. "Please don't tell me you two are 'just friends'. I don't think I can bear to hear either one of you say that again."
Again the twin's shoulders shrugged. "Well, then I don't know what else to tell you, Ron."
"I see the way you look at her. I'm not dumb," Ron replied. Fred's eyebrows raised skeptically. "I'm not. You look at her like she's the only girl in the room, even when there are 37 people in the house. You never let her out of your sight, you sit together all the time, she holds your hand, when Harry asked her to get a drink with him she invited you to come along, and now you're all but shagging each other."
It sounded worse when Ron listed it out, one thing after the other. Fred just shook his head. "It's not like that with us. We're comfortable together. Boys and girls are allowed to just be friends. You and Hermione were friends."
"Uh-huh, and then we dated for two years," Ron retorted. "Great example."
"Need help?" a voice asked, coming up behind the pair. Ron shook his head as Fred nodded, handing her a box of merchandise to stock. Fred and Hermione quietly went about putting the items on the shelves as Ron stared. "So, what were you two talking about in such hushed and whispered tones?"
"What beautiful children we'd have," Fred told her with a smile.
Hermione laughed. "Thankfully brown hair is a dominant gene," she joked, receiving a tickling poke in the ribs from Fred. A withering stare fixed itself on Hermione's face, but one smile from Fred and it was gone.
"See, you can't stay mad at me," Fred declared, a look of victory spreading across his face. He watched as she tried to straighten her mouth back into a firm line, but couldn't help the little quirks that picked up the corners. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a half hug as her smile grew. His mouth drew closer to her ear as he whispered, "And they'll be gorgeous kids no matter the hair color."
********
Sunday nights were always spent at the Burrow. It was the only rule Mr. and Mrs. Weasley established as their kids had all moved on from their childhood home. This was the first Sunday that Hermione hadn't arrived with Fred.
"So, where's the girlfriend?" Charlie asked, nudging Fred in the ribs with his elbow.
"She's not my girlfriend," Fred grumbled, his eyes surveying the room for any sight of her. They fixed on the door just as Hermione walked through, a blonde in tow.
"What's Malfoy doing here, and with her?" Ron and Harry muttered to one another and whoever else was around them.
Hermione made her way through the room, greeting the family, until she reached Fred. The glowering look she received from him told her something was wrong. Before she could speak to him, though, he made his way out of the room and up the stairs.
"I wouldn't go up there if I were you," Charlie whispered as she started to follow her friend. He brushed past her to make his way to his brother's room. Charlie entered when his knock went unacknowledged. The small room was shut in darkness, the sound of a ball thumping off the wall was the only sign someone was there.
"Go away," Fred muttered, as the dim light from the hallway infiltrated his hiding spot.
"Not happening little brother," Charlie replied, moving to sit next to the twin. "We're going to talk about this, just so you know. So get comfy."
Fred sighed, his head banging against the wall. "I think I like her," he admitted, both to himself and his brother. "And, maybe even, as more than a friend."
"Does she know about this?"
"Would she have brought him if she did?" Fred retorted. "Merlin, what is she doing with him?"
"Maybe she's trying to get your attention," Charlie suggested, glancing at the pained look on Fred's face.
"She's always had my attention." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fred started talking again. "Ya know, I forced her into all this Weasley family togetherness. I thought it would help her get over Ron and me get over Angelina. I guess I thought...well, I hadn't expected she'd get over Ron with Draco Malfoy."
"You thought it would be you," Charlie concluded.
"I think I'm just gonna go home," Fred decided, ignoring the comment. "Tell Mum I wasn't feeling well, would ya?"
Charlie made his way downstairs after his brother's exit. Hermione stood over the sink peeling potatoes as Mrs. Weasley chatted Malfoy's ear off at the kitchen table.
"Fred's gone home," he announced. "Stomach ache I think."
Hermione's head whipped around. "Is he okay?"
"I'll send some soup home with George and Hermione," Mrs. Weasley offered before turning back to Malfoy. "So, Draco, tell me all about this fancy Ministry job of yours."
Hermione backed away from the sink and followed Charlie outside as the conversation continued. "Is Fred alright?"
"I think," Charlie said with a sigh, "that you should talk to him."
********
Fred lay on the couch, a book he was barely even looking at open in front of his eyes. With a grunt, he slammed it shut throwing it halfway across the room.
"Shouldn't do that to a book, you'll either dent the wall or injure the book," Hermione attempted to joke. Fred looked up at the sound of her voice. He was torn between wanting to be happy that she'd come after him and angry that she never considered his feelings. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," he replied, picking a spot on the wall behind her to stare at.
"Then why did you leave?" she inquired, trying to move into his line of sight. Fred shrugged. "Please talk to me."
Fred's eyes finally fixed on Hermione's. "I have nothing to say," he said, the serious tone was one she'd never heard from him.
Hermione tentatively sat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "Please, Fred."
"Why him?" he asked, yanking his hand away to stand up. "Seven years of being called a filthy mudblood wasn't enough for you? Is it the money? You like that he could buy you a small Greek island?" Her hand connected with his cheek before he could continue his rant.
"How dare you? You really think I would stoop so low as to date someone because of the size of their Gringott's vault? It's truly astounding how highly you think of me, Fred Weasley."
"You didn't answer my question," he said pointedly. "Why him?"
"He's changed," Hermione told him, a smile lifting at the corners of her mouth. "We ran into each other at work, and got to talking. We've become rather good friends. He doesn't even point out that I'm a mudblood anymore."
"So...so you and Malfoy aren't...ya know?" Fred asked sheepishly.
"Honestly, Fred," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, "don't you think you'd have known if I were dating someone?"
"I don't know," he mumbled, feeling the blush rise from his neck up. He felt her wrap her arms around his midsection.
"So are we okay now?"
Fred removed her arms from himself. "No, Hermione, we're not okay," he responded. "I like you."
"Well, I like you too," she said with a small laugh. "We are friends after all."
"No, like I like you like you," Fred said. The look on her face told him she didn't understand. "Merlin, for someone so smart you can be frustratingly dense. I like you."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Say it," she murmured.
"Be my girlfriend," he whispered against her ear as his arms pulled her closer to his body. Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his lips nearer to her own. Their lips met for the first time, a surge of energy rippling through the pair.
"Say it again," she asked, a smile lighting up her face.
"Be," he kissed her.
"My," another kiss.
"Girlfriend."
Their lips met once more. "Is that a yes?" he asked.
"Of course it is," she answered, smiling against Fred's lips. "Now, shut up and kiss me."