Midnight Conversations
"You know Granger, it's after midnight. Unless you're planning on skiving off all your classes tomorrow, which I fully support, you should run off to bed."
Hermione jumped at the intrusion of her final revisions for the charms test later that day. Without turning around she regarded the voice. "Hush Fred, I'm nearly finished. Why don't you go visit George?"
"Can't, hes passed out again," Fred said in a sad voice.
This got Hermione's full attention and she turned around to look at Fred, all thoughts of studying gone. He was sitting in the comfortable looking armchair that was painted into his portrait, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. The brushstrokes were well defined in the creases of his forehead that accompanied the frown, unfortunately the frown on Fred's painted face was becoming a frequent occurrence. Hermione couldn't help but be sad at that, Fred Weasley's face was one that should never look so sad, dead or alive. It was the matching face miles away that gave her cause to worry.
George, as expected, was not taking the death of his brother well at all. It was his idea to have the portraits made in the first place, paying a good sum of gold for the best magical artist to do it. Now, months later, he seemed content to just drink away his pain. Hermione didn't think it was the best idea for Fred's portrait to be hung in the twins flat, didn't think it would help George let go, but as it was really none of her business, she kept quiet. She had told Fred though, one late night in his Gryffindor common room frame.
The two had spent many a late night talking about everything and nothing. Of George, of the rest of the Weasley's, of the past and future. Hermione found an unlikely friend in the mischievous portrait, and Fred found an unlikely ally in his quest to help George heal.
"I'll send Charlie an owl in the morning," Hermione promised with a sigh. "I'll also visit him this weekend myself, we can have another sleepover."
"Will you wear those little blue pajamas?" Fred asked feigning innocence.
"I knew I should have obliviated you after that, you know those weren't pajamas. I was in the process of getting dressed when you apparated into my room while I was in my bra and knickers." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Who's room love?" Fred countered.
"You'd moved out of the burrow by then, your mum said the room was all mine," Hermione argued back.
"Well, we weren't about to tell mum we were keeping the extra stock at the burrow. I'm not complaining anyway, you look good in blue."
"Sod off," Hermione answered with a laugh.
"Hermione Granger: Brightest witch of her age, savior of the wizarding world, bloody head girl… did you just tell me to sod off?" Fred asked in mock horror.
"Harry saved the world," Hermione said automatically.
"Yes, he obviously did it all on his own didn't he?"
"I just made sure he stayed alive."
"And made all the plans and did all the research, and cooking, and took all the torture and…"
"Yes well, I wasn't the only one to make sacrifices," Hermione cut him off.
"No, I suppose not," Fred allowed before changing the subject. "So, thought any more on Ronnikin's bumbled proposal?"
"Be nice, you. It was very sweet, though I don't think he really thought everything through. I really have no plans to get married before I even finish school."
"Well, can't really blame a bloke for getting in there early, make sure no one else snatches you up."
"Fred Weasley, are you really hitting on me now?"
"What if I am? You're a good looking bird, brainy as well. Quite the catch you know."
"You choose now to tell me all of this? If you'd any idea the crush I had on you for years, you wanker!" Hermione was laughing out right now.
"Are you serious? Merlin's beard Granger why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Right, 'Hey Fred, I know you're popular and funny and bloody gorgeous, as well as two years older than me, I'm just a know it all bossy swot, but fancy a snog?'"
"I would have said yes," Fred answered without hesitation.
"Bloody hell, talk about missed opportunities," Hermione muttered to herself.
"Nothing to do about it now, unfortunately. Unless you're into alternative relationships."
"As progressive as that sounds, I'm not sure we could make that work," Hermione snorted.
"Too bad," Fred laughed lightly. "I think you should tell Ron yes, when you're ready."
"We'll see," Hermione yawned loudly.
"Go to bed, love. I'll be here in the morning," Fred said, his normal smirk back in place. "Pity there are no portraits in the dormitories."
"Pervert," Hermione said with no real venom. She packed her books and walked over to the portrait where she placed her hand onto Fred's painted one. "I'll talk to McGonagall in the morning about checking on George during my lunch hour."
"Maybe George will wise up and see what a catch you are," Fred offered with a small smile.
"Nah, wouldn't work, he'd never be you."