Fred grinned at her. "Do you want to go change into your pyjamas then?" She nodded. "You're sleeping in here tonight."

"I am?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm thinking maybe we should snog a little."

"Oh, really?"

He smirked. "Definitely. What better way to get acquainted?"

She blushed and he began to shrug out of his robes. "The loo is the door across from your room by the way. Should have extra toiletries under the sink if you need them."

She thanked him and then slipped out of the room and into the other bedroom. She changed into her blue and purple pyjamas and then gathered together her toothbrush and toothpaste before padding over to the washroom. After doing the necessities and splashing cool water on her face, she returned to Fred's room.

He had changed into a t-shirt and boxer shorts. His body brushed against hers as he passed by her to leave the room and use the loo. She couldn't help a faint smile.

When he came back she was standing just as he'd left her, her eyes on the bed as though it was a puzzle that she couldn't for the life of her solve.

"Something wrong?" he asked carefully.

"No," she said quickly, jumping at his voice behind her when she hadn't heard him enter.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Actually yes," she said. "I wasn't sure which side of the bed you favour."

He chuckled. "As it is, I tend to splay myself out in the middle, so really the question is which side you would prefer."

She paused. "I usually sleep on the right," she told him.

He gestured to the bed accordingly. "It's all yours."

"Thanks."

She crawled under the covers and got settled while Fred put his dress robes away in his closet. He joined her in bed momentarily.

"So," he began, "er, I like having my hair played with and my ears kissed. The backs of my knees are ticklish and I'd go mad if I heard you say my name."

Hermione briefly wondered if she should be taking notes but a glance at Fred and his relaxed demeanour told her that it would be ridiculous to do so. He wasn't trying to give her instructions, he was simply trying to make her feel more comfortable with him by telling her these things. She supposed it took a fair deal of trust to divulge such information to another person, even for a seemingly shameless bloke like Fred Weasley.

She appreciated his effort immensely.

Wracking her brain for something to say to him in return, she turned in the soft bedding to face him."I like having the spot under and just behind my ears kissed," she admitted quietly.

He lifted himself onto his elbow and leaned over her. Bracing his other hand just above her head, his lips started at her jawline and, as she instinctively tilted her head back, they made their way to the spot she had described, soft and warm against the sensitive skin there. "Here?" he asked, his lips tickling her slightly.

"Mhmm," she hummed.

"What else?" he questioned, returning to his earlier position, a little bit closer now.

"I don't really know," she replied. "My ribs are ticklish."

"Shall we test that?" Before she could figure out what he was doing, his fingers were attacking her ribs and she was laughing almost painfully against her will, wriggling to get away.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Fred! Fred, seriously! Stop! This isn't fair!"

He laughed and took mercy on her.

"There's something," Hermione said once she'd caught her breath, "I don't like to be tickled."

He contradicted this with a shake of his head. "In the right circumstances, everyone likes to be tickled."

She would have liked to disagree with this statement, but feared that Fred would take it upon himself to convince her otherwise.

She wondered if this meant that he enjoyed having the back of his knees tickled. That would be rather strange though, wouldn't it?

She didn't have long to dwell on this as he was then brushing the hair away from her face and smiling at her as he whispered, "Don't think too much," before kissing her yet again.

His tongue swept out along her bottom lip in an unspoken question and in response Hermione parted her lips softly and granted him access. It was a strange sort of unfamiliarity to her at first, something she had once thought she'd never get used to when kissing someone. However, with Fred she found herself quickly becoming more accustomed to it and it wasn't so strange anymore as it was enjoyable.

One of his hands began to skim up and down along her side and her own tongue met his gently and timidly. She was beginning to feel warm all over in the best way possible.

He kissed down the column of her neck and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, thumbs stroking over the warm skin of her tummy.

There was a pause in Hermione's responsive actions at this new contact. "Don't think," he said again.

She took a deep breath and relaxed as she let it out, pushing all thoughts to the back of her mind. She slid her hands under his t-shirt and felt the hardened muscles of his abdomen beneath her fingertips. She blushed at that. Her husband was fit.

She roamed the muscles of his back. He withheld a groan. It wasn't something he had mentioned, but he loved the feeling of her hands on his back.

Fred was all too disappointed when he felt her touch leave him a moment later. Before he could even think to do something about it though, she was pulling the bottom of his shirt up to his chest.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

Wordlessly, Fred grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed it to the end of the bed and resumed kissing the beautiful witch beneath him.

She began tugging him closer to her then, her hands on his back and shoulders drawing him down towards her.

He easily complied to her wishes, closing the distance between them. When he then felt her hands pushing at his chest, he thought maybe he'd read her previous actions all wrong.

He rolled off of her and was more than a little surprised when she followed him, her leg coming to rest between his and her chest against his own as her lips worked softly on his neck and her hand went into his hair.

Fred let out a low groan as Hermione's lips lingered on his adam's apple.

"How…how am I doing?" she asked. "Is this okay?"

Fred couldn't believe that she had any doubt. "Don't ask," he said. "You're doing brilliantly."

She smiled shyly at that and her cheeks warmed further.

He smirked at her and then placed a large hand at the back of her neck and pulled her down for an, for lack of a better word, electrifying kiss. She felt the shiver run through her, straight down to the tips of her toes.

In a suddenly bold and instinctual move, Hermione pressed close against him, almost experimentally.

Fred broke away from her, his breath coming out ragged and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"We should stop," he told her.

She froze. "Did I do something—"

"You're kidding me." He ran a hand through his hair. "Does it look like you did anything wrong?" He gestured downwards and watched as her eyes followed to his waistband, as she realized his point.

"Oh," she said. Was it wrong of her to feel pride at getting such a reaction from him?

He chuckled at her expression. "A bloke's only got so much self-control."

Hermione's smile was almost involuntary, but there nonetheless. He grinned at her. "You have no idea Miss Granger, do you?"

She had nothing to say to that. Rather, she just lay back down and let out a soft sigh. A moment later she had found herself more words. "I...I also like the way you kiss me," she said.

"What was that?" Fred asked.

At first she wanted to just say nothing, to turn on her side to hide her embarrassment and simply tell him she hadn't said a word. But this was Fred. He was her husband.

"I said," she began again, " I quite like the way you kiss me as well."

"I thought that's what I'd heard," he mused. She hit his arm lightly. He laughed. "You're quite kissable," he added.

"I've never been called that before," she told him thoughtfully.

He smirked. "Then you haven't been kissing the right blokes."

Or any blokes, Hermione wanted to say. Really, she could count the number of lip to lip contact experiences she'd had on one hand.

Victor Krum had given her her first real, albeit a tad sloppy, kiss in fourth year. Seamus Finnigan had been dared to kiss her in sixth year, she'd had no say in the matter when he'd marched up to her and planted his lips on hers with no warning. And then there was the kiss she and Ron had shared during the final battle, one she wouldn't forget if only for the brief romance she had felt in the moment.

"Apparently not," she agreed.

They fell silent, the sound of Fred settling and getting comfortable being the only sound.

"You know," she said, "this was all supposed to be very awkward and very uncomfortable and very...ungraceful."

Fred folded his hands atop his chest as he lay on his back. "And you're saying it isn't all of those things?" he asked.

"Oh no," she laughed, "that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying that it isn't very uncomfortable, awkward and ungraceful. Not as much as I thought it would be."

"True, though I can't make any promises for Saturday evening to be the same."

Hermione nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"Hermione?"

"Fred?"

They both spoke at the same time.

"You first," Fred told her quickly.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." He opened his mouth to say something but she ploughed on hurriedly. "Before you say that I shouldn't be apologizing, just hear me out. I think this one constitutes as being called for. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting about this whole thing. I know I haven't exactly been helpful throughout this. I hope you know that my attitude had nothing to do with you. You're an amazing man and I'm lucky to have been paired with you. Honestly."

"Well, thanks," Fred said, taken aback. "And, I won't hold it against you," he dismissed. "The situation is shite. I'm glad I was paired with you."

"And I bet this is how you pictured your wedding night," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Hermione."

"I kept telling myself what would happen tonight," she said, "and I thought I was...prepared?" She frowned as it came out as a question. Perhaps that's what it was. "I...does it bother you? I mean, does it matter to you that I haven't..."

"Hermione," Fred began patiently, his voice taking on a secret sort of playful, "fear of a word only increases fear—"

"Had sex," she interrupted, never one to back down.

"So, it matters?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Of course it matters."

"Oh."

"It matters to you, doesn't it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she replied carefully.

"Then it matters." He studied her intently. "Hermione, don't feel uncomfortable abou—"

"I'm not," she whispered.

He could hear the worry in her voice. "Hey," he waited to meet her eyes. "We've got until Saturday. I promise I'll try my damnedest to make it comfortable for you."

"Okay," she said softly.

The worry was still there. He heard it as it shook her quiet voice a little and it made him want to reach out and touch her. A tangible reassurance of sorts.

He couldn't bring himself to carry out the action, settling for words instead.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Disappointed by what?" He waited for an answer in her silence.

"The fact that I'm…inexperienced," she told him.

He shook his head. "Not at all. It's a bit of extra pressure maybe, but I wouldn't say I'm disappointed, no."

"Would you have been disappointed if I was?" Hermione asked curiously, her voice a tad stronger now, though still quiet in the dim room.

"No." He paused. "Maybe a little."

"Oh?"

"I wouldn't want to think of you with anyone else," he told her, as though it was obvious. "You're my wife."

"Oh." She thought about this. Then she thought about it some more. And then she thought about Fred. Her face burned. "Fred, just how many…how many…never mind. I'm sorry. It's none of my business really."

Fred allowed himself a small smile and turned onto his side to face her. "You can ask the question, Hermione."

"Okay." She tried to control her voice, taking a steadying breath. "How many girls have you been with?"

"Two," he said.

"Oh. Two," Hermione repeated. In all honesty, she thought the number would have been higher, so it was a bit of a relief. However, it still made her uneasy. There were two other girls her husband had been with. Girls Hermione probably met at one point or another. She completely understood what he said now. She didn't like the thought.

It didn't matter that they had only had their first kiss mere hours ago, at an alter, and were then informed of the requirements to the marriage they were to be a part of without choice. He was still her husband. She believed she now had a right to want him to herself.

Not that she wanted Fred.

Just that she didn't want him with other women. Not while they were married.

And she didn't like thinking of him with other girls from before they were married either.

That was understandable, wasn't it?

She wanted to ask who the two girls were but she decided against it. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer anyway.

"What is it?" Fred asked her.

She must have appeared to be deep in thought then. He was watching her inquisitively.

"It isn't fair."

"You mean..." Fred naturally assumed she meant their nuptials but something about her expression told him that wasn't it. "What isn't fair?"

"You've been with two other people. I've been with zero."

"And?"

"It's not fair. You know what you're doing, I won't have a clue."

"You'll be a natural," he told her.

"How do you know?"

Fred shrugged. "You're a natural at everything."

"Not quidditch."

"Well, it's not much like quidditch."

She sighed. "You were going to say something earlier. I completely interrupted."

When he realized that she was right, he had been meaning to say something, he nodded. "I meant to ask what your schedule was like this week."

"I took tomorrow as a day off," she told him. "Thought I might need a day to settle in and sort things out. I'm back to work from Monday morning though. I usually work from eight until about four or five. Why?"

"Well, George told me not to worry about being in the shop tomorrow," Fred explained, "and the rest of the week is pretty flexible, so I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go house hunting at some point?"

"House hunting?" she repeated, sounding rather confused. "For...us?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong with here?" she asked.

"Nothing," Fred told her. "But I never really thought of it as a place to house a married couple. It's above a joke shop. And...it doesn't seem fit to raise a child in. Besides, I thought we might find a place that will be just as much yours as it is mine." He paused. "Not that you can't make yourself at home here," he added.

"Just that—"

"No, I understand," Hermione cut in. "I assumed you wanted to stay close to work is all."

He chuckled. "I'm a wizard. Anywhere is just a wand wave or floo trip away really. If you'd rather stay here though...for the time being, I don't see anything wrong with that."

"I'd like to go house hunting with you," she agreed.

"We can even go this week if you'd like, but I don't see any rush in finding another place. You and George did a lovely job here."

Fred chuckled. "Thanks. Ginny helped a bit."

"I think we need to get accustomed to living with each other before we go moving somewhere else, don't you think?" she suggested.

"Also, we need to figure out what we can afford," she said. "I have some savings from quite a few birthdays and holidays and summer jobs and my parents had left me money for whatever endeavors I took on after Hogwarts. In case I went into muggle post secondary schooling."

Fred nodded. "Always a step ahead," he commented.

"George and I used some of our inheritance to pay Harry the last of what he loaned us but I haven't spent the rest of my half and I have a good amount of savings as well."

"Inheritance from whom?" Hermione inquired.

"Our uncles," he replied. "You've heard about my mum's brothers? Fabian and Gideon Prewett?" Hermione nodded. "Well, George and I were about three when they died. During the war though, when everything was really beginning, they were among the many people who thought they best plan for the worst. They wrote for everything, literally everything, to go to the two infant troublemakers their little sister had recently had."

Hermione smiled. "Do you remember them?" she asked.

"Vaguely," Fred replied. "I remember them doing magic to entertain us while everyone else discussed things Bill and Charlie said we couldn't listen in on. Uncle Fabian had a green handkerchief that Uncle Gideon turned into about fifty different things he had whizzing about the room. Can't for the life of me tell you what they were though.

"Anyway, they left George and I everything they had, but we could only access it when we turned twenty. Mum reckons they wanted to make sure we didn't skip out of school with it, or use it in any way we'd regret."

"Understandable."

"Mum asked us not to mention it to the others though," Fred told her. "She didn't want any sort of bad feelings over it. I don't think that you would but—"

"I won't mention it," Hermione assured. "No worries."

"Thanks." There was a pause. "So, er, I mean, I know this isn't how you planned any of it, but where did you think you'd live when you...got married and started a family?"

Hermione considered this. "I hadn't really gotten that far," she admitted. "I suppose...I don't know."

"You...never thought about it?" Fred asked warily.

"It's not that I haven't considered it," she said. "I just always assumed I'd be sorting out those details much later, you know?"

"Marriage, you mean?"

"And having a family," she added. "I thought I would get a job and work for a few years, something steady and stable. I would work my way up the system a bit and then start to worry about settling down with someone. Another year or so before we'd think about children. I imagined myself to live in a flat until then, comfortable for just myself."

"Oh. But you did want a family?" he questioned.

"Eventually," she agreed.

"Quite a long plan."

"It's how my parents did it," Hermione defended.

"I didn't say there's anything wrong with it," he said quickly.

"I just think that to have a family, ideally you should prepare. A stable relationship, a stable job...household."

He nodded his agreement.

"What about you?" she returned. "Were you...planning on a family?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, Hermione, always."

She swallowed thickly. "How many kids?" she managed.

He shook his head at her. "Honestly? At least two."

She let out a soft breath.

"Why?" he asked. "What was your ideal?"

"I always pictured two little ones," she replied. "Maybe three. I assumed you wanted a Weasley brood of your own."

He laughed. "I can't imagine trying to do what Mum and Dad did," he said. "While I've always known I wanted kids, I've also known that I don't want that many. Not that I don't love my brothers and Ginny, but growing up was always crowded and hectic and there was never enough privacy. Our parents spent so much time trying to make sure everyone was taken care of that they hadn't ever much energy to just relax with us. Even then, their attention was always split between at least four other children." He sighed. "They are great parents and they raised a great family, if I do say so myself, but I just don't think I could or would want to do that."

"I don't think I could, either," Hermione said. "Your mum is one incredibly strong woman."

He nodded. "And you?" he asked. "What was it like being an only child?"

"Lonely," she told him, the answer instant. "I mean, I remember wishing I had siblings almost every day when I was little. I wanted a permanent best friend, one that would be with me through everything.

"I never made friends easily in school. They said I was more mature than the other kids and that it wasn't anything wrong with me, or anything wrong with the other children, it was just that we couldn't quite understand each other yet." She laughed. "I thought that what I needed was a brother or sister to understand me."

Fred thought of George.

"Anyway, in some ways I liked being an only child though," she went on. "My parents never ran out of time for me and there wasn't anyone I had to compete with for anything. I never had to share. I always had plenty of space to myself and time to myself when I wanted. It suited me well."

He could picture a little, bushy haired, button nosed Hermione sitting in a child's bedroom, reading to herself. It was an endearing image. He grinned.

"Can I tell you that I'm already looking forward to being someone's dad?" he asked.

He watched her eyes flick down to her stomach in worry and he immediately thought he'd said the wrong thing.

"I've...I've always thought that I was meant to be somebody's mum," she said.

He smiled.

She yawned tiredly and snuggled deeper into the sheets. He took this as his cue.

"We should probably get some sleep," he said. "It's been a long...week."

"Mhm," she hummed.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"I should warn you now that I'm a cuddler," Fred said. "Both consciously and subconsciously speaking."

She blushed and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I won't object to being cuddled."

He smiled, leaned over, gave her a sweet kiss goodnight and slipped his arm across her waist. Hermione told herself to stay still and go to sleep but she was having trouble fighting the urge to wriggle and roll a bit to get comfortable. Lying on her back, she knew she would never fall asleep in the position she was in.

She shifted just slightly, not wanting to alert Fred to her discomfort, and tried to better the situation.

She felt him chuckle beside her before he lifted his arm and told her to get comfortable.

She apologized quietly and he shushed her. She turned on her side and curled her legs, settling comfortably.

When she stopped moving Fred returned his arm to her waist and spooned in behind her, his front against her back and moulding to her form. "This alright?" he asked.

"Mhm," she agreed, and she meant it. There was something very safe and secure and overall soothing about being tucked so closely to him. His arms were lean around her, but solid and strong and his body, significantly longer than her own, fit nicely against hers. She could feel herself drifting off in the embrace.

"Do you like pancakes?"

Hermione was only half aware that the question was being asked in reality as she replied, "Everybody likes pancakes."

"Good answer. I'm making breakfast tomorrow then."

"You don't have to—"

"Goodnight."

She yawned yet again.

"M'night."

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm in a cottage at the moment so I couldn't reply to them

But they we're great to read. Thank you!

Please review they make me happy and I'm in such a crap mood. Pretty please?

Anyways,

Scarlett