She sat on one of the benches in the Great Hall: Christmas holidays had started and almost everyone had gone home for the season. It was peaceful, and Hermione was able to read Hogwarts: A History - again - in perfect peace as she nibbled on a piece of toast that had been generously slathered with butter and marmalade.
She flipped a page, smiling as she read the title announcing her favourite chapter: The Great Hall. She glanced up, admiring once again the enchanted ceiling, currently reflecting the deep grey clouds: it was going to snow.
She buried her head back into the book, absent-mindedly reaching for her mug of tea and taking a deep, refreshing sip.
"Merry Christmas, Granger!" George sat himself down next to the bushy-haired bookworm as his twin mirrored his actions on her other side.
"Morning, George. Fred," she turned her head and smiled at the twins. "I forgot you were staying here for the holidays." She reached the toast rack and pulled it closer to them so the boys could help themselves, which they did, taking enthusiastic bites from the slices.
"Well, it always seems to be more fun here during the Christmas season," George started.
"Especially if you're hanging around." Fred finished, a cheeky smirk on his face, obviously referring to the numerous times she, Harry and Ron had managed to get into trouble. "Couldn't miss out on the mischief now, could we?" Fred's eyes were twinkling.
"Yes, but Harry's gone to the Burrow with Ron. And you know I don't cause trouble by myself."
George snorted, one of slight disbelief.
"You're the one that encourages those sods, 'Mione!" Fred nudged her with his elbow and she rolled her eyes. Giving up on trying to read, she pulled the book to herself and shut the heavy leather-bound cover, laying it on her lap as she turned from Fred to see George getting up to go, following a few Ravenclaws out of the Great Hall, leaving it deserted save for the two Gryffindors and a scattering of professors at the head table. Her puzzled expression must have shown on her face as she turned back to Fred, because he explained. "George likes one of the girls." His tone was matter-of-fact, and Hermione acknowledged with a nod.
Taking a delicate bite of toast, Fred rolled his eyes. "Girls are so dainty when it comes to eating, you need to be more ferocious." There was a challenge in his eyes as he took her wrist and pulled the toast towards him, leaning in and biting, chewing, then smirking. "Like so."
His hand lingered on her wrist only a moment before pulling away, smirk growing as he noticed a blush colouring the girl's cheeks. The toast that was left was quickly popped into her mouth and she chewed and swallowed in order to distract from the blush on her face. But both of them knew it was there, and there was no point in trying to hide it.
"So, as you're here, I suppose this Christmas is going to be as joke-filled as those at the Burrow?"
Fred nodded. "Just you wait, 'Mione." He swung his legs from the bench and stood, offering a hand to Hermione, who took it, cradling the book under her arm. The pair walked from the Great Hall, leaving it almost silent now, and Fred pulled back a tapestry, leading the way to a shortcut back up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione paused, looking up at him.
"If this is a trick..." She was a little dubious, after all, Fred Weasley was infamous for his practical jokes.
"Just go, Hermione." He said with a good-natured roll of his eyes.
Deciding to trust him, she went ahead, Fred following close behind until the passageway was wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. It was an amicable silence until Hermione mentioned Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and then Fred started talking enthusiastically about the most recent sweet they were developing, so much so that they both stopped walking and stood, talking for ten minutes before realising that they'd stopped. Hermione glanced up at the tall boy in front of her, smiling, before realising the piece of decor that was hanging above them. Fred noticed her change of expression and frowned, then followed her gaze upwards.
"Oh.." The word wasn't said, whispered or muttered. It was just a small breath. "Well, can't break tradition now, can we?" A small smile formed on his lips as he leant down, and Hermione didn't resist, hugging the book to her chest as her eyes closed. "Merry Christmas, 'Mione," and she felt his lips on hers.
"Hermione!" Her eyes were open, tall ginger figure calling her attention. "Hermione, are you okay?"
And she was back. Her surrounding? The familiar kitchen and dining room of Grimmauld Place, complete with Christmas tree and smells of turkey and sprouts and stuffing. All she did was nod, shutting her eyes against the traitorous tears that threatened to appear. It was just a memory. A perfect one, but that was all. And she realised that the figure that called out to her wasn't Fred; it would never again be Fred Weasley.