Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reading and adding this story to their story alerts and favorites. I am glad you're all enjoying it.
And I'd like especially to thank EmmaRose58, Teleliniel, Wizards-Pupil, Crazy-Obsessed-Writer, and annewed for their kind reviews!
I now present to you a chapter detailing the nature of Fred and Hermione's relationship. I hope you have fun reading it.
-Harkinian
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the god and creator of these wonderful characters, locations, etc. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment.
As the love-fate potion rolled down her throat, Hermione tasted oranges and dark chocolate. What a weird combination, she thought while a sudden warmth started to spread within her. This pleasant feeling was almost immediately replaced, however, with a startling bout of confusion.
She shook her head in an attempt to clear her fogged mind and smiled at an on-looking George. "I hope this was worth it," she said.
"Me too." George pulled out his pocket watch, a large 'W' engraved into the gold, and checked the time. "Dragon balls, it's almost ten! I'd better go to the Warehouse. Gotta check on how the new batch of Skiving Snack Boxes is coming along. Do you mind running the front with Verity?"
"Of course not. I'll get to it."
"Thanks. See ya, 'Mione." George winked before exiting through the back door, his bright robes fluttering behind him.
Hermione tended the shop for the rest of Monday morning. As she rang up sales on the antique, brass register, she noticed that the male customers did more than stare at her with wide eyes and mutter to their buddies, "That's Hermione Granger, isn't it?" No, several men even had the audacity to flirt with her. Hermione wondered in the back of her mind whether the potion had any role in this new attention.
In the early afternoon, as the cafés and restaurants of Diagon Alley filled, the retail shops emptied, and the typical weekday lull fell upon the Weasleys' shop. Hermione sat cross-legged on the front counter, a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. While she read, she intermittently eyed the front door, ready to spring off the counter and into a more professional position should one of the Weasley twins saunter in. The two entrepreneurs were generally lax in regards to their staff's actions during break time, but they disliked their employees acting unprofessionally during store hours. And no matter how weak the trickle of customers was at the time, Hermione was not yet on break and thus not allowed to sit on the counter top as she was doing.
Stuffing the remaining bits of her sandwich into her mouth, Hermione nearly choked when the door opened, and a handsome man with dark hair, light eyes, and a Grecian physique walked in. She hopped off the counter and gathered herself enough to attempt a poised standing position behind the register.
Tall, Dark, and Handsome walked over to a wide-eyed Verity and asked her something. Hermione watched as Verity giggled and replied, her pale cheeks turning a shade of pink that rivaled the highlights in her platinum blond hair. It was then Hermione's turn to blush when the stranger strutted over to her.
"Mademoiselle, I have finally found you!" he spoke with a charming French accent.
"O-oh? Me? Wh-what?" stuttered Hermione. She mentally berated herself for stuttering. It is just a man, for Merlin's sake. Just a very, very good-looking man.
"I have been traveling far and wide, you see, in search of the most beautiful woman in the world! And when I arrived in London, I simply asked a random man on the street, and he directed me here. To you." He flashed a dazzling smile.
"R-really? No way. You d-definitely have the wrong person...You can't p-possibly be t-talking about m-me..." Hermione tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her heart pounding. Could this be an effect of the potion she had drunk? She sent a look of bewilderment toward Verity, who put her hand over her heart and sighed.
"No, I'm quite certain it's you, ma belle..." He placed a kiss on Hermione's hand and looked up at her. Hermione recognized instantly the sparkle in those blue eyes.
"FRED WEASLEY!" she roared and punched him in the arm. Fred roared with laughter as he transformed back into his normal, lean and red-haired self.
"Oh dear Hermione, you should have seen your face. Priceless, eh, Verity?" Fred continued to chuckle as he dodged Hermione's next burst of violence and bounded up the stairs that led to the twins' flat. But not before he gave Hermione a suggestive wink and a smirk.
Hermione, meanwhile, was admonishing herself for losing her cool over a mere man and for thinking that the damned potion could ever present her with Prince Charming. Fate had never been on her side, at least not in terms of her romantic endeavors. She was probably doomed to a solitary life of parting kisses and tearful goodbyes. Or surrounded by cats. Definitely cats.
"The boss got you good, didn't he?" Verity called from behind a shelf.
"No, no. Never. He didn't get me. Not any part of me." Hermione shook her head for emphasis. "No, he did not."
Verity chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that, Hermione. And remember, the first step to falling in love - denial."
That evening, while Hermione sat on her favorite chintz chair in her flat, intent on finishing Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrites before dinner, she heard a soft tapping at the window. She glanced up and recognized the well-groomed owl that belonged to internationally renowned Quidditch player, and sometimes model, Cormac McLaggen. In its talons was a large, wrapped package similar to the dozen other gifts McLaggen had sent to Hermione after the two had "reconnected" at the Minister's Ball last autumn. Hermione always sent these gifts back, wrapped and unused, because she knew McLaggen only sent her these trinkets to gain access to her bed.
Unwrapping the package and tossing Cormac's attached note aside, Hermione found that this time the Quidditch player had sent her a carton of fresh strawberries and a small, crystal fountain that spouted molten chocolate. Hermione dipped a single strawberry into the chocolate, telling herself it was not a crime to enjoy the smell. Nonetheless, the moment the combined scents of the chocolate on the strawberry wafted up to her olfactory bulb, she started a mental debate and weighed the pros and cons of eating the strawberries. If she ate them, she'd be accepting McLaggen's gift. And the food was probably laced with a love potion. Then again, if she didn't eat them, she'd be missing out on her favorite food. But I won't be giving in to McLaggen, she told her grumbling stomach. That was the important part.
Hermione snapped out of her reverie when she heard a knock on the door. She placed the strawberry down and opened the door to find Fred Weasley looking comical with bags stuffed with food levitating behind his head.
"Good evening, pretty lady," he said.
"Oh," Hermione said with disdain. "It's you."
"Care to have dinner with me?" Fred asked.
Hermione put her hands on her hips, still cross at him for his performance that afternoon. "Want to give me a reason why?"
"Well, George is in Hogsmeade, and I feel lonely," he replied.
"Not good enough," Hermione retorted.
"Hmph." He crossed his arms. "If I were in my right mind, I would turn around and march away at your rudeness. But, seeing as I'm completely insane, I still insist you let me in. Besides, I've got your presents." Fred said the last sentence in a singsong voice and, with a flick of his wand, conjured a powder blue bag.
Hermione reached for it, but Fred snatched it away before she could touch it.
"Not until you let me in," he said.
Hermione glared at him for a second before giving in. "Fine," she said. She opened her door wide, and a smirking Fred bounded into her flat, his grocery bags nearly knocking her over.
Hermione huffed in indignation before hastening over to Fred who had snatched up a strawberry and swiped it through the chocolate fountain. His lips touched the chocolate before Hermione was able to grab his arm.
"Stop! That strawberry is not safe!"
Fred cocked a curious eyebrow at her before setting the fruit on the table. "Is that so? Or are you just depriving me of delicious strawberries because you want them all to yourself?" He glanced at her with a knowing look in his eyes.
"I'm looking out for you, Fred." With narrowed eyes, Hermione cast a specialis revelio spell on the items. Nothing happened.
Fred grinned, wiped the chocolate off his lips, and licked his chocolate-covered finger in a manner men reserved for other activities. Hermione sent him a death glare so powerful that even the bravest of aurors would have faltered, but it had no effect whatsoever on the snarky twin. Fred's amusement was further indulged when he saw the note Cormac had sent along with the package.
"What's this?" he asked. Holding the card above his head so a flushing Hermione could not snatch it away, he started to read it aloud.
"I bring these strawberries to my lips, knowing your kisses are infinitely more sweeter, but they-" Hermione made another attempt to snatch the card from him. "-they will have to be my substitute for now." Fred guffawed, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. "Merlin, 'Mione! Here I thought you were an innocent and pure young witch, when you've been having such a sordid affair behind our backs all along!"
Hermione thumped him in the arm. "There is no 'sordid affair,' Fred Weasley, and if there ever was one, it most definitely would not be with a rat like Cormac McLaggen."
"Then why did he send you this note?" Fred narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, his mouth curved into a smirk.
With a great deal of exasperation, Hermione explained to him the situation between Cormac and herself and managed to tone down Fred's amusement by asking him to whom the author of the note sounded similar.
"A drunk Ron? Drunk Charlie?"
"No, idiot, like you this afternoon!"
"You didn't like my Prince Charming?"
"For what it was worth...no."
When Fred had appeased the brunette with an apology and they finally started cooking dinner, they cooked without magic "to spice things up,"insisted Fred.
"How did you learn to cook this way?" a curious Hermione asked.
Fred grinned. "Muggle cookbooks. Lee gave me one for my birthday as a prank a few years ago, and I've been hooked ever since. It's quite like potions, really, except with less explosions...and less Snape."
Hermione chuckled. "And did your Muggle cookbooks say you needed celery and raspberry jam for penne pasta?"
"You can never know what you may or may not need with cooking."
"Fred, this is way too much food." Hermione stared at the great assortment of foodstuffs laid out on her kitchen counter, an amount large enough to cook a meal to feed the entire Weasley family.
"Just keep the extra food then."
"Why? I don't need all of it."
"Unless you plan on eating eggs the rest of your life, keep it," Fred said as he gestured to her open, and nearly empty, fridge. Oh right, Hermione thought. She hadn't had a chance to stock up on groceries for the week yet. With embarrassment she glanced at Fred, and the genuine look of concern he gave her startled Hermione into reluctantly agreeing to keep the food.
This is…different, Hermione thought as she thanked Fred for the food and returned to slicing tomatoes. Hermione Granger had never agreed with the twin so easily before.
Their brief exchange inflicted awkwardness onto their previously comfortable silence, and Hermione tried to break it by asking how Fred's Parisian trip went.
"Smoothly, I think," Fred said, as he shook salt into a pot. "I'm really excited for the expansion. The European market is hot right now."
"And you've got a good site for the shop, right?"
"Yup. Right in the heart of Wizarding Paris. It's a brilliant location—Ow!" Fred yanked his hand away from the handle of the boiling pot of water and rubbed it gingerly.
"Burned?" Hermione inquired. "I have ointment for that."
"Nope, just a little red. And if I had been burned, I have a spell for that. I am a wizard, you know. A very competent one." Fred thrust out his chest and tossed back his hair, a move that would have been much more effective if his hair wasn't cut in the short style he had adopted to "look more like a respectable businessman."
Hermione scooped the diced tomatoes into a bowl. "So when do you plan on opening the new store?"
"As soon as possible, unless you have a different suggestion as to when we should."
"No, I agree. You should open it up as soon as possible. I mean, in a few months the children will be out of school, and you want to be established before the prime season, of course."
"Exactly." Fred dunked a handful of pasta into the pot of water. "You really are turning out to be quite the Santa's little helper, aren't you?"
"And who's Santa? You or George?"
"What kind of question is that?" Fred asked. "You know I am, of course! I'm the one who makes the kids laugh. Then again, I don't have the potbelly, like George does. Nor do I have the beard." Fred frowned as though it were a grave disappointment to not have a fluffy, white beard.
Hermione pursed her lips. "George doesn't have a beard or a potbelly."
"How do you know? That boy is skilled at Disillusionment charms. How else do you think we were able to do all the stuff we did back at Hogwarts?"
"I know for a fact that George is in prime and fit form."
"Alright, Doctor Granger. But how are you so certain? Did you get the opportunity to check firsthand?" Fred asked with a wink.
Hermione spluttered as she cut into an onion. "No! I saw it on his health records, which you told me to go over last month." Peeved, Hermione chopped a slice of the onion with unnecessary force, before continuing. "…And how could you accuse me of 'checking firsthand'? You know I'm not like that!"
Fred sighed. "Relax, Hermione! I was making a joke! You really need to learn the art of joking, darling."
"I can make jokes!"
"But you can't take them."
"Yeah, I can! Here, hit me with a joke."
"We're cooking. How am I supposed to hit you with a joke?"
"Just tell me a joke!"
"Telling a joke to you is not the same as playing a joke on you."
"Whatever! Just…make me laugh."
"Are you sure? I don't want to offend your delicate sensibilities."
"Yes! Give me a joke. I can take it."
"…Can it be a dirty joke?"
"Tell me a joke, Fred."
"Hmm…" Fred said as he poured olive oil into a black skillet. "Okay. Two guys are sitting on a bar stool. One starts to insult the other one. He screams, 'I slept with your mother!' The bar gets quiet as everyone listens to see what the other guy will do. The first again yells, 'I SLEPT WITH YOUR MOTHER!' The other says, 'Go home dad, you're drunk.'"
Hermione smiled. "That one was…alright."
"'Alright'? It's hilarious!"
"Well, give me another one."
"Fine. One day in the forest on an island, three wizards were hiking along a trail when all of a sudden, a huge pack of centaurs attacked them and knocked them out.
"When they woke up, they were brought to the leader of the tribe. The chief centaur told them, 'I will spare all of your lives if you find ten of one type of fruit and bring them back to me.'
"So after a while the first wizard returned with ten apples. The chief centaur ordered him to stick all ten of them up his ass—shush, Hermione—without showing any expressions on his face. He had a little bit of trouble with the first one and started crying while trying to put the next one in. So, he was killed.
"The next wizard came in with ten grapes. The chief centaur soon ordered him to do the same as the first wizard. After the ninth grape, the man burst out laughing for no apparent reason and was also killed.
"The first two wizards met in the afterlife, and the first one asked the second, 'Why did you start laughing? You only needed one more grape, and you'd have gotten away!'
"The second wizard answered, still laughing. 'I couldn't help it,' he said. 'I saw the third guy walking in with pineapples!'"
With a triumphant grin, Fred turned towards Hermione, fully expecting her face lit up with laughter. His grin dropped, though, when he noticed her back turned away from him and her shoulders trembling.
"'Mione? Are you alright?" Fred asked.
When Hermione turned around, Fred realized she was shaking with silent laughter. "Oh, dear Merlin," she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I dunno what's up with me, if it's chopping these onions or what, but I never laughed until I cried at a joke before!"
Fred smirked. "So I gave you your first time, eh?"
Hermione laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Fred."
When at last they finished cooking, they set up the crystal wizard's chess set Bill and Fleur bought Hermione for her birthday and played a round of chess while they ate. Hermione fared well at the start of the game, until she found out the hard way that Fred was even more skilled at wizard's chess than Ron.
"Why do you have to win at everything?" Hermione asked as she watched his queen bludgeon her knight.
Fred smiled. "Because I'm a natural winner. Why else?"
"No one's a natural winner."
"I guess I'm the sole exception."
"Could your ego get any bigger? Wait, don't answer that question."
Laughing, Fred leaned back in his chair, placing his empty plate on the table. "Tell me, what did I miss while I was away?"
"Not much. It was a very busy week, to be sure, though. And George's lady drama continued."
"What happened?"
"Alicia cornered him and snogged him."
"She's always been a feisty one," Fred said. "What else?"
"Well, I finished the new batch of Copa del Amor, but before I could bottle it properly, it was ruined by Alicia and George's snogging."
"How would snogging ruin a love potion?" Fred asked, stroking an imaginary beard. "Really, I'd like to know."
Hermione explained how the fate potion mixed with the love potion and then told him what she and George had speculated about the purpose of the new potion.
"Is this what you're talking about?" Fred pulled out of his pocket a vial full of the red potion. "Hmm...Putting the drinker on his proper path to love? Sounds like a long shot," he wondered. "Still, still..." He shook the vial gently and stared at its swirling contents, his mind deep in thought.
Hermione took this time to discreetly appreciate Fred's intelligence. She was ashamed to admit that she once considered the twins' magic "flashy" and "of no use to anyone," but upon deeper examination of Fred and George's inventions, she realized their magic really was quite advanced. Sure, neither Weasley had applied himself to his studies back at Hogwarts, but the twins still were among the brightest people Hermione had ever met. Fred's thought processes were comparable to those of Hermione's favorite literary character, Sherlock Holmes. Fred's brain ticked at lightning-quick speeds, deducing problems as to why certain enchantments or potions didn't work and coming up with solutions, which sometimes worked (and sometimes didn't), just as fast. He was, however, prone to letting his imagination get the better of him, and this was when George, the more pragmatic of the two, had to pull his brother back down to earth.
When Fred snapped out his reverie, he asked whether either Hermione or George had consumed any of the potion.
"Yes, we did," Hermione said, self-consciousness about her actions suddenly creeping into her. She shifted her gaze from Fred's face to the remains of her knight on the chessboard.
Fred tittered. "I don't believe it! Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes drank a new, risky, and potentially poisonous concoction? No way!"
"It's safe," Hermione insisted. "I had Luna Lovegood check it out. Besides, it was worth a shot! My love life is so miserable that this potion couldn't possibly damage it further."
Fred offered her a pointed look. "As a good experimenter, make sure you note anything significant that happens to you. Well, your love life."
"Yes, sir," Hermione muttered.
They chatted a bit more about George's predicament and made a bet regarding whom George would pick in the end, if such a decision needed to be made.
"Twenty galleons says it'll be Angelina, easy."
"I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Fred. Alicia is determined. She knows what she wants out of life, and she would go to great lengths to get those things."
"Trust me, Hermione, I know these people better than anyone, and I still say Angelina takes the prize."
"Well, to make things more interesting, I say a dark horse candidate steals his heart in the end."
"That's very Gryffindor of you, Hermione. And you've got yourself a bet." Fred grinned and extended a hand. Hermione shook it with mock-solemnity before cracking a smile herself.
Bet having been made, the two proceeded to put away the chessboard and clear the dishes. Once they finished, Fred presented Hermione with the gifts he had bought her in Paris.
"For your hard work these past several months, I give to you a token of my appreciation," he said with a flourish.
Hermione picked up the blue bag. "Thanks, Fred. Really, you shouldn't have."
"A kiss for my efforts, then?" Fred leaned in for peck, but Hermione pulled away.
"Not after what you put me through this afternoon. Verity will be laughing at me for at least another week."
"Well, do I ever get to snog you?" He started to pout, and Hermione laughed at his ridiculous expression.
"I'll have to think about it," she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a friendly hug.
"Good night, Fred," she said.
"'Night, love." He winked as he pulled out of their embrace and doffed an invisible hat as he exited her flat.
After Fred left, Hermione repackaged Cormac's gift, before eagerly pulling out the contents of the blue bag. They were books, and the sight of them made Hermione happy. To say that she loved reading was an understatement.
What pleased the bookworm even more were that the books were used, which meant they were old, and Hermione enjoyed old books more than anyone could think possible. They even had personalized inscriptions in them that signified from and to whom each book was given. Hermione took her time reading them.
Charms for a Happier Soul
Dear Alfie,
May this book bring you great joy and many laughs, as it did for me when I was your age.
Love,
Grandpa Henrie
Making Love: Amortentia, or the Most Dangerous Potion in the World
My belle Angelique,
The moment you smiled at me, I knew you were the one.
Yours forever, Sydney
Herbert and Duchennes's Guide to Yesteryear
Dear Jacques,
Please don't be offended, but you really ought to brush up on your ancient runes. Familiarize yourself with the knowledgeable writings of Herbert and Duchenne; their theories are quite fascinating, and you're sure to learn a lot.
Sincerely,
Genevieve
Hermione smiled, her stomach fluttering with excitement at finally getting to read Guide to Yesteryear. She then examined the last book Fred purchased for her. It was entitled A Love for Infinity, a work of romance authors Lacey and Amoria, which on its cover depicted a beautiful, swooning maiden, caught in a deep embrace with a handsome young man who looked very familiar. Upon closer observation, Hermione realized that the man looked exactly like how Fred had looked that afternoon at the shop.
Hermione shook her head, bemused, and opened the book to find an inscription.
Sweetest Hermione,
Your glorious beauty and endless wit charm me so.
I find my eyes can wander no farther from your face than Ron can from the sight of sweet potatoes.
I hope when you read this book you consider me,
please, great goddess, show some sympathy.
You're playing with my heart,
and from you I never wish to part.
With the greatest love, devotion, and all things romantic,
Fred Weasley
P.S. This took me only thirty seconds to write. Aren't you proud of me?
Hermione scoffed at his words but smiled nonetheless. Fred was unlike anybody else in her life; he somehow infuriated her as often as he entertained her. But for his kind words and thoughtful gifts, she resolved to send him a note of gratitude.
Dear Fred,
Flattered though I may be by your devotion and loyalty,
your hand I must decline.
The fates above told me that your love
is as bloated as the body of a swine.
Yours truly,
Hermione Granger
P.S. How'd you know I wanted Herbert and Duchenne's Guide to Yesteryear? I'd been looking for a copy for ages! Thanks for that and for the rest of the books as well.
P.P.S. Yes, I'm proud of you, Fred. But I only took twenty seconds to compose mine.
P.P.P.S. But a romance novel? Really?
Reviews always welcome!