A/N: So, my friends and I used to have a Tumblr for fanfic prompts. We've been inactive on there for quite some time, so I thought of posting one of my works here. I've edited it a bit, but it's still mostly the same. Enjoy. :)
Request: Fremione. Plot: During Hermione's 4th year when she started s.p.e.w. Hermione's hunger strike becomes something more serious and with everyone all focused on the tournament, Fred is the only one who notices her eating disorder.
A/N (2.0): Sorry if it's slightly OOC. Some lines are taken from typographies seen on Tumblr. Harry Potter is not mine.
TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of anorexia. ((If this is a trigger for you, please exit now.))
"Everyday's the same, she fights to find her way. She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray. She wonders why, does anyone hear her when she cries?"
- When She Cries, Britt Nicole
She rushes from class to class - hair wild, robes baggy, with dark circles under her unusually dim eyes. This wasn't unusual behaviour for Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' resident bookworm and overachiever. But, what was unusual was something that only Fred Weasley noticed.
She'd become withdrawn, usually seen just sitting there while Harry and Ron would jabber on about the Triwizard Tournament. And every mealtime, that is if she wasn't in the library, she'd just push her food around her plate, subtly vanishing small bites when she thought no one was looking. But, somebody was looking. Somebody did notice.
He finds her one cold night in the Gryffindor common room, curled up in front of the fireplace and staring into the embers. He places his hand on her shoulder, making her jump.
"You alright, 'Mione?"
"Why wouldn't I be, Fred?"
"Ooh, correct on the first guess. Ten points to you, Miss Granger."
She rolls her eyes and stands to leave, but he gently pulls on her arm, noting how his hand practically engulfs her bony wrist.
"Seriously though, 'Mione. You alright?"
"Of course."
He racks his brain for a subtle way to approach the topic.
"It seems like you've lost a lot of weight."
Weirdly enough, her eyes seem to brighten a bit.
"Really?"
"Yeah. What's up, Hermione?"
"Oh, it's probably just all the stress. What with Harry in the Tournament, and S.P.E.W., I was on a hunger strike for a short bit, you know, and OWLs next year..." she trails off.
He nods, unconvinced. "Well, take better care of yourself, yeah?"
She nods, and he ruffles her hair.
For the next few days, he keeps a close watch on her. True to his suspicions, she still wasn't eating.
It was another cold night in the common room when he finally decides to confront her.
"Why do you do this to yourself, Hermione?"
She looks up from her book to meet Fred's brown eyes.
"What are you on about, Weasley?"
"Why do you starve yourself?"
Her eyes widen in surprise.
"Wh-wha-what?"
"You think nobody notices, but I do. I know that you go to the library to skip meals and when you do decide to make an appearance in the Great Hall, all you do is vanish bites of your food when you think no one's looking. You're starving yourself, Hermione, and it's not good. I care about you and I want to know what lead you to do this to yourself."
"You don't care, you're only curious."He gently places his hand on her cheek. "I do, Hermione. I care about you. And it kills me to see you killing yourself."
At that, she bursts into tears. Almost automatically, Fred envelopes Hermione in his arms, mentally noting how thin she's become and mentally slapping himself for not doing anything about it earlier.
"It's just so hard, you know? And what hurts the most is that I'm falling apart and nobody's even noticed. I just want someone to say, 'Eat, Hermione. You need to eat.' Not that I would, but... I just wanted someone to care."
"I care, Hermione. I do care," he whispers into her hair.
"Everybody expects me to be perfect. Little Miss Perfect Gryffindor Princess who knows it all," she says with a bitter laugh, letting go of Fred and wiping her eyes.
"Is that the only way people see me? As the buck-toothed, bushy-haired, know-it-all?" She laughs scornfully. "Ron doesn't even see me as a girl."
"Well, Ron is a blind git," Fred says, making her chuckle.
"Are all men blind gits, then? I don't think so. They can't all be. I think what's wrong is me. I just want to be beautiful. I want them to see past the bookworm and see the woman underneath."
"You are beautiful, Hermione. And the numbers on that muggle contraption you use to find out your weight don't matter."
"You're only saying that because-" He cuts her off.
"I'm saying that because it's true. You're beautiful, smart, witty, brave, a hero. You're a beautiful person, Hermione. Inside and out. You don't need my git of a brother, or any other guy, to tell you that."
She smiles and kisses him on the cheek.
"Thank you, Fred Weasley. For you, I'll try. I guess I just... need to be saved from myself sometimes."
It was a long process. There were many slip-ups, but Fred didn't leave Hermione's side even once. He was there through it all, saving Hermione from her worst enemy: herself.
Come the Yule Ball, Hermione walks in, healthy and glowing. Everybody's gaze follows her as she walks in, chin high and smile big.
From the sidelines, Fred looks on, proud of her recovery. Her gaze wanders to him and their eyes meet. He raises his glass in acknowledgement and she nods, smiling.
Mostly to himself, he whispers, "Chin up, kid. They'd kill to see you fall."
