I cannot begin to explain how sorry I am that I haven't updated in so long. I'll be surprised if anyone's even still reading this story. Things have been SO unbelievably hectic. And another thing, so sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I wrote it at midnight.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Disclaimer: All characters, setting, recognisable plotlines etc are property of JK Rowling.
"Oliver," Fred ground out, gritting his teeth. Was there no end to the guys that found his girl attractive?
She's not 'your' girl, a little voice reminded him. Not yet, anyway.
Fixing a smile onto his face, he strode to the front of the shop where Oliver was leaning on the counter and chatting away to Hermione. Even from here, Fred could see that he was flexing his muscles, and he rolled his eyes before approaching them.
"Hey, Oliver," he said with a grin, his cheeks already beginning to hurt.
"Fred!" Oliver exclaimed. "Or are you George?"
"I'm Fred," he assured his friend. "How are you, mate? The career with Puddlemere still going strong?"
"Actually, that's the reason I'm in Diagon Alley. I've been going around looking for a job, because some wanker bought his way into the team in my place. While I wait for a position to open, I was wondering if I could work part-time here? I've been up and down Diagon Alley but no one's hiring."
"We're not either, mate," Fred said, faux regretful.
Hermione turned to stare at him. "Didn't you say just yesterday that you wanted a shop assistant so that you and George could focus on inventing?"
Fred cursed silently at himself before reaffixing his grin to his face. "Oh, that's right! Ollie, you're hired! Pay's five Galleons an hour. Report at nine and leave at six and between those times, sell as much as you can!" With a wink, Fred finished his spiel and, with a shake of Oliver's hand, vanished back into the lab.
Oliver raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "What's up with him?"
Hermione shrugged helplessly. "He probably saw you as a bit of a threat," she confided.
Oliver was mystified. "A threat to…?"
"Well… me and Fred."
"Fred and I," Oliver corrected. "You two are dating now?"
Abruptly, Hermione's face dropped into lines of misery. "I'm not sure anymore."
He checked his watch. "I think it's time you took your lunch break. You can tell me about it over a roast beef sandwich." Taking her by the elbow, he steered her to the door, flipped the sign to "Closed" as they left. Neither of them realised that Fred, although unable to hear their words, had been watching with an eagle eye through the open door of the lab.
"Fred," a voice behind him said conversationally.
Fred jumped about three feet into the air. "Oh. It's you. What?" he asked his twin.
"That's not very nice," George reproached. "I was only going to ask if you were alright."
Fred ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Oliver's going to steal Hermione from me. I can feel it."
George raised a sardonic brow. "Well, mate, you haven't actually popped the question. You went on… what, one date? If you want the bird to be your girlfriend, you actually have to ask."
"I know!" Fred snapped. "It's just… difficult."
"Why is it difficult?"
"Because I don't know if she feels as strongly as I do about… well, us. Just now, she went to have lunch with Oliver."
"Fred, you're a twat. Get your testosterone under control," a new voice interjected. The twins turned around to see Ginny emerging from the fireplace.
"Hello to you too, darling sister," Fred quipped sarcastically.
"Who's going to lunch with Oliver, anyway?" Ginny asked, one hand on her swollen belly as she wound her way through the aisles to her brothers.
"Hermione," George replied. Fred shot him an annoyed look. He didn't want Ginny knowing that.
"Oh, are you two finally together?" she asked excitedly.
Fred goggled at her. "What d'you mean, 'finally'?" he asked at last.
"Since she started working here, the family's been taking bets on how long it'll take for you two to hook up," Ginny replied matter-of-factly. "We all know George is secretly in love with Katie Bell, so it was obviously going to be you."
George blushed as Fred protested. "Well – I – we – what? No! Just - "
"Full sentence any time now, Fred," Ginny requested nastily.
"They kissed," George told her with an evil grin.
"I win!" Ginny crowed, throwing her hands up in the air. "But now? Are you two together?"
"No," George again replied on Fred's behalf. "This idiot hasn't asked her yet. And then he gets irritated when another bloke so much as looks at her."
"I repeat: get your hormones under control, brother of mine. And get your act together too. If you don't snatch her up, someone else will. She's just been getting prettier and prettier, hasn't she? I even saw Blaise Zabini watching her the other day." Fred's skin warmed in jealousy yet again.
"Look, if you're worried about her not reciprocating your feelings, I'll find out for you. But I seriously think you should grow some balls and just go for it rather than acting like a thirteen-year-old."
So saying, she strode back to the fireplace and tossed the glittering green Floo powder in, disappearing with a shout of "The Burrow!"
"She's a lovely, kind person, isn't she?" Fred asked, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared.
"She could have phrased that better," George admitted. "But in theory, it was a correct statement. Blokes do this kind of unsure little dance thing where they're in their early teens. Fred, how many times have we gone to clubs and gotten together with birds we don't even know? You can do this."
"You're right," Fred realised. "Yeah. I'll ask her tonight."
"Atta boy," George praised. "Now let's run this shop properly in our employees' absence."
MEANWHILE AT CAFÉ DE LA MAGIE…
"So, what's going on with you and Fred?" Oliver asked, biting into a roast beef sandwich. Hermione stirred her pumpkin soup absently as she wondered how to phrase it.
"We went out once. We kissed. And for the last couple of weeks… nothing. Not a second date, not an offer to become official. He kisses my cheek, but never goes beyond that. We don't talk about anything but the shop."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear Merlin," he groaned. "He's acting like a socially awkward pre-teen."
"How d'you work that one out?" Hermione asked interestedly.
"He's not just going for it like he should. He's trying to find absolute proof that you fancy him as well."
"I did that in grade school," Hermione laughed.
"Exactly," Oliver replied, waving his fork at her.
"Hello!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly appearing at their table.
"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione cried, leaping up to give her friend a soft hug, being mindful of the baby bump. "Sit down! Have you had lunch?"
"Yes, I ate at home. Hi, Oliver," she said with a smile and nod to the man.
Conversation resumed, now centring around Quidditch after Ginny's appearance. Hermione tuned out, talk of the popular Wizarding sport boring her as it always did.
"Hermione, Fred likes you!" Ginny blurted out.
Silence fell at the table.
"I know," Hermione managed at last, her voice surprisingly even. "I just don't know why he isn't doing anything about it."
"Because he's a twat. I'll talk to him about it."
"Have you thought of what to name the kid?" Oliver asked, motioning to Ginny's stomach.
"Harry wants to name him Albus Severus," Ginny said pitifully. "James I can understand. Lily I can understand – that's what he wants to name our first daughter. They're lovely names, and they mean something special to us. But Albus Severus? This poor kid will have a hard life with a name like that."
"I can talk to him, if you want," Hermione offered. If anyone could bully Harry into submission, it was her.
"No need," Ginny said, struggling to her feet. "I'll deal with him."
"Going home so soon?"
"James will need food and Harry will be sure to give in and let him have ice cream. Which he is not allowed to," Ginny said sternly, as if Hermione and Oliver had suggested feeding him some. "Besides, you two need to get back to the shop."
"Oh…right," they chorused in unison, remembering that it was actually a working day.
And back to the shop they went.
The evening brought a hopeful Fred and a miserable Hermione. He had holed himself up in the lab the whole day, thereby preventing Hermione from seeing him at all.
In light of a depressing day, Hermione had arranged to go out with some old friends from her Hogwarts years, men and women alike. Among the group were Seamus Finnigan, highly eligible bachelor, Dean Thomas, now married to Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, who Hermione had found out was dating her ex-boyfriend (and ex-best friend) Ron Weasley, Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah and Neville Longbottom and surprisingly enough, a few Slytherins, among them Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, all single and available with the exception of Pansy, who was married but still saw other men on the side.
Fred approached Hermione just as she was taking down the accounts for the day. "Hermione," he said with a smile. She looked up, smiled tentatively back at him.
"Yes, Fred?"
"Would you like to… would you like to come up to the flat for dinner? I'm cooking," he added with a hopeful smile.
"Oh," Hermione said, her face falling. "I'm going out with some old Hogwarts friends tonight… I'm sorry, Fred."
"That's alright," Fred said easily, though his voice cracked. "Some other time, then. Who's going along tonight?"
"Lavender, Parvati, Dean, Seamus, Zabini, Malfoy and a whole host of others. Ron said he might be going along as well."
Fred felt a flare of jealously as he heard Zabini's name, and had to resist the temptation to drag Hermione upstairs and make sure that she was his and his alone. Now wasn't the time.
"Have fun," he said, hoping she didn't hear the strain in his voice.
Swiftly, she leaned up and kissed him softly. "Goodnight."
Snatching her purse up from below the counter, the left the shop with a tinkling of bells.
Fred didn't know what possessed him to do what he did that night.
No, that's not true.
It was the Wizka.
Five times as strong as Firewhiskey, and Fred went and drank half the bottle.
Fucking alcohol.
Taken over by a wave of jealousy, he contacted his younger brother and ascertained where the group was to be meeting. Drunkenly, he made his way to the club in question. If George had been at home, he would have stopped him. But at the time, George was making his move on Katie Bell. And so Fred stumbled into the club at eleven at night, his eyes flicking around the room in search of Hermione.
When he spotted her, his chest ached with jealousy again. There she was on the dance floor, completely sober, and dancing with Zabini. Hands on her waist, he leaned closer, grinding his hips into hers.
Without thinking, Fred was plunging crazily into the throng. He reached the dancing duo and yanked them apart.
"Fred?" Hermione questioned. "Fred… what – ? Are you drunk?"
"What the hell are you doing dancing with him?" Fred growled.
Hermione tried to keep her cool. He's drunk, she reminded herself. He doesn't know what he's saying.
"He's a friend of mine," she replied as coolly as possible.
"Friends," he sneered the word, "don't dance like that."
"And how," Hermione said, her voice growing steadily icier, "were we dancing?"
If Fred had been sober, he would have recognised the danger signs. As it was, he ploughed on, unaware of the jeopardy his manhood was in.
"Like he's a pimp and you're his paying whore!" Fred roared.
Behind Hermione, Blaise tensed. "Mate, Hermione and I may be just friends, but I would still have no problem smashing your face in for that."
"Leave it, Blaise," Hermione reassured. "He's drunk. He's not in his right mind."
"Like you'd have a chance," Fred slurred at Blaise with another sneer. "Hermione's mine."
Real anger stirred in Hermione's eyes at this latest claim. Releasing Blaise's hand, she took Fred's instead and pulled him through the crowd into the alley beside the club.
"Let's get one thing very clear," Hermione said venomously, poking Fred's chest. "I am not a possession, not to mention you have laid no claim to me. You do not have the right to barge into an evening with my friends and accuse me of shagging Blaise Zabini. You have even less right to abuse me verbally, because I have done nothing wrong. You are the one who's the problem here." She gave him a contemptuous look. "I'm through with you, Fred Weasley. Talk to me when you've grown some balls."
And so saying, she spun on the spot and Apparated home, throwing up anti-Fred wards before collapsing on the sofa and starting to cry.