Happy Birthday Hermione!
I really don't have the time to have written this, but oh well. I think this is the first time I've ever written a Fred/Hermione piece. It's different. Not necessarily my OTP, but a paring I favor.
Anyway, I don't own this, yeah? That applies to this chapter and the next.
"Here," a vial is shoved under Hermione's nose.
"Fred? What?" The bushy-haired fifth year blinks and leans backward. A long arm still extended holds out a potion.
"You're sick," he points out the pile of tissues Hermione hadn't bothered to vanish, "since you weren't going to go to Madame Pomfrey, I thought I'd bring the remedy to you."
"Did you steal this?" She asks, her normal reprimanding tone less effective when masked by congestion.
"No, I brewed it," Fred shakes his head, "now, drink."
Hermione uncaps the vial and downs the potion. Steam pours out of her ears.
Fred vanishes.
"I never got a chance to thank you," Hermione catches up to him in a hallway a few days later.
"It was nothing," Fred brushes her off.
"You noticed I was sick and brewed a potion for me, that wasn't nothing," she keeps struggling to match his pace.
"Someone had to look out for you," he shrugs.
"It didn't have to be you," she pulls him to a stop with her free hand, "So, thanks."
"Don't mention it."
"Your secret's safe with me," she leans up and brushes a kiss against his cheek. Fred freezes, muscles locking tight.
Hermione vanishes.
He's alone in the common room one night, George off with Alicia. Hermione watches, bites her lip, and decides. She joins him in the corner, perching on the arm of the chair across from him.
"Hermione, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His stare breaks away from the fire to fix upon her.
"How did you only get three O.W.L.s when you're so much smarter than that?"
Fred smiles and rises, looming over her.
"One day you'll learn that tests aren't everything," he steps closer, then bends, dropping a kiss on her crown.
Sliding into the chair, she thinks.
Hermione throws herself down into one of the common room chairs, fumbling with her bag as she pulls out homework, her hair and the tears in her eyes obscuring her vision.
A warm, solid palm settles in the space between her shoulders. "What's wrong?" Fred rumbles quietly, settling on the arm of her chair. Hermione presses her face to his side.
"A fight with my brother then," he sighs.
"You know, if you stopped trying to make yourself love him, he wouldn't make you so miserable."
They sit quietly until George calls for him.
When he looks back, she's gone.
Hermione watches Fred planning, George at his side, Lee with Angelia and Katie on the other side of the room. It's how she knows they're talking about Umbridge, not the joke shop.
George runs upstairs and Hermione slips over to Fred.
"Come to tell me it's a bad idea?" He raises a brow.
Hermione shakes her head. "No, I came to tell you you're very brave."
Fred's lips curl upward into a smile and he extends a hand to her. Hermione lets herself be guided into his lap and pulled into a hug.
"Keep things running here once we're gone."