An Unlikely Love

Chapter 7: The definition of 'It'

Story starts here.

Hermione threw her body onto the sheets on her bed and clutched at the blankets, sobbing. There was something dark, lurking, and dangerous leaking from her heart and spreading through her like wildfire. She clutched at the blankets on her bed, and tried to stop herself from loosing it.

Pull yourself together, her brain, always the one to react first, told her.

No, I cant. I'm sorry. It just hurts too much, her heart replied.

Well, what do you expect? That something so wonderful would have actually lasted? Don't fool yourself.

But… why would he say and do all those things if he didn't mean it?

It doesn't matter! There is no such thing as a happy ending in real life… you of all people should know that.

Oh, Shutup and let me deal with this the way I want!

Don't be childish. Straighten up and deal with it the way you should.

Hermione's heart had won the battle over her brain, and the tears continued to stream down her face. Self pity took over her and threw her off a cliff, and she was falling… falling.. Just waiting for the rocks below to destroy her once and for all.

Fred tried to push Angelina away, but she just pressed harder, her mouth non-relenting against his firmly pressed together lips, as she tried to pull a response, anything, out of him. His only response was to grab her, and push her away, which just made her angrier, more determined to make him.. Make him what? Love her? He couldn't. In the past, he had whished he could, that he should, but he just… couldn't. He had always felt guilty towards her for that; for not loving her the way she loved him; and in turn Fred felt weak towards her. But, he loved someone else. He loved…

Hermione.

When the thought came to him, while Angelina's lips were pressed securely into his, her arms wrapped around his neck, he knew it was true. And he found in himself the strength to push her away from him, inner strength he didn't even know he had.

"Fred-"

"Im sorry, Angelina. I told you. I can't."

"But-"

"No buts. The whole time you were kissing me, I was thinking of Hermione. Cant get her out of my head.. I- I love her. And you cant force me to stop loving her just like you cant make me love you."

"How can you be with her over me? Why is it that you have the ability to love her.. But not me? What is wrong with me?" Angelina was furious, and she had both her fist balled up beside her. Fred didn't want to make her mad, but if that what he had to do, then… He'd do it.

"Angelina, I-"'

"FRED!"

Both Angelina and Fred heads snapped to a red-faced Ginny. She looked even more murderous than Angelina, who turned and flounced away at the sight of Ginny, who could be scary that way.

"Ginny, wait-"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" she yelled, pulling her wand from her robes.

"This is a public place," George quipped from behind a shelf. And went ignored.

Fred just stared at Ginny, his mind blank. It was his fault now? "What?"

"What did you do to Hermione? What did you say? WHERE IS SHE?"

"I don't know what you talk-" Fred stopped mid sentence as he was hit by a sudden realization: The bell had rung after Angelina was already in the store, he hadn't thought of it until then, but, could it be that was… Hermione?

No. If that was so, she would have seen what just happened, and for her to see that…

"SHIT."

"You little-" Ginny whipped her wand up and aimed it at his nose.

"W-wait! Let me explain! She kissed me, not the other way around!" Fred held a protective hand in front of his face.

"Yeah, then? What about when you snuck in to wake her up last night? That wasn't just for a casual chat now, was it? Were you leading her on?"

"No, no. Not Hermione! Angelina!"

"What about her?"

Fred just stared at Ginny. She'd get it soon enough.

Maybe in… three, two, one:

"OHHHHH!"

"Ginny, where is she?"

"How would I know, I asked you that!"

"How would I know?"

"How would I have known that you didn't know without asking first?"

"How would I-"

"Check the burrow first," George interjected. "Ill keep an eye on the shop. This is a bit too important for you two to be sitting here arguing about it."

"Yeah!" Ginny said like it was her idea.

Fred just stared at her, and went to the fireplace, picking up a pinch of Floo powder. "Are you coming, or not?"

"Fred, she isn't here." Ginny circled Hermione's bedroom, looking for signs of her.

"But she has to be-"

"She isn't." Ginny picked up a shirt that had been tossed on the grown in a careless, un-Hermione-like way. "But she was. She was wearing this today."

The shirt Ginny held was a burgundy, stretched out T-shirt. It must have been splinched in her rush, and it was missing a sleeve. There was dark spot on it where her tears had fallen.

Fred snatched the shirt from Ginny, who sent him a sour look. "Dammit, where is she if she isn't, here, then? Do you know any place that's special to her, that she loves?"

Ginny just tilted her head at him. "Hogwarts, the Burrow, and… the garden at home."

"The garden. The garden! Of course. Come on, lets go. I bet if she is anywhere near here, she's there."

Hermione sat under an old elm near the burrow. It was the place where Fred had brought her just the night before; where they had whispered secret things and made promises all throughout the night until the morning. It was full of that memory, and she wanted to cherish it, protect it, keep it from being shattered. Like her. She felt shattered, and stupid. Stupid for.. For what?

She didn't know what to call It. All she knew was that she had never felt anything like It before: nothing that made her feel so empty, so desolate on the inside with It's absence.

She sniffed back tears of self pity, and wrapped her arms around her knees, placing her head between them.

This has to end, her mind told her.

Oh, shove it, herheart replied.

"Why would he do this to me?" Hermione thought aloud, and cursed under her breath. Anyone who saw her would think she was insane and have her carted off to St. Mungo's at once.

She drew in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm herself and let out a long sigh.

"Hermione?"

Her head snapped up and her eyes met a pair of green ones, who looked at her eagerly. She looked away, and back.

"Been looking for you." Fred took a tentative step forward, unsure.

"Shouldn't have. I don't want to talk to you." She looked away again, not really wanting to see his reaction.

"Let me explain-"

"Nothing to explain. I was being stupid and I jumped to an even more ridiculous conclusion. Now I'm suffering the consequences."

"Do you really think that's how it is? Come on Hermione, you are smarter than that."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Hermione snapped, angry now. "Don't you dare insult me, you…" wonderful beautiful witty "you…." lovely warm funny clever, "Damn you, Fred!"

"Hermione, listen," he pleaded.

"No," she stood up, gaining the energy from her anger to face him again, "You listen. What made you do it? WHAT drove you to do such an… evil thing! Hook line and sinker, is it? Hook me, pull me in, and break me: is that how it is? I am sick of your little game, Fred Weasley!"

Fred was angry himself, now. "Is that what you think this was? This is? A game? Do you think that all this was what…made up? In the name of Merlin, Hermione, why are you so damn stubborn! Why cant you just hear me out? Please? Please?"

Maybe it was the fact that Fred Weasley had just said 'please' to her, or perhaps it was something completely different, but whatever it was siphoned the anger from Hermione, and as she looked at him, now only a few feet away, she wanted nothing more at that moment than him. Not just some of him, but all of him. Which is why it hurt her so much to see him with Angelina; she wanted him all to herself.

Is it too much to ask for? Do I even deserve someone as amazing as Fred Weasley?

She looked down at her own, boring brown shoes. Then she looked over at Fred's vibrant, red and green mismatched sneakers. They were so… different. How can two people whose shoes were so different ever be compatible?

"Like you said," Fred said softly, sounding nearer than before, and reading her thoughts, "Opposites attract."

When Hermione looked up, he was less than a foot away from her. Mad with herself for wanting to close the distance between them, she stepped back until her back was pressed against the rough bark of the tree.

"Hermione…"

"Fred. I'm.. I'm…" she didn't even know what she was gonna say, and she trailed off. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes and she sniffed to keep them from flooding her nose.

"She kissed me, Hermione. I didn't touch her. I grabbed her to try to push her away, but she just pushed harder. And I felt guilty, so guilty, because didn't love her, I cant love her. Because I realized, as she was kissing me, that I loved someone else. Someone I believe I knew unconsciously from day one that I would love. Someone beautiful, intelligent, stubborn, and brave."

He stepped forward and brushed a surprisingly soft hand over her face. Her hand snapped up to grab it and hold it there, like it had a life of its own, but when the all to familiar zing ran through her body, putting her nerves on edge, she let go of the hand quickly, appalled at herself.

"See? We belong together. We cant keep off of each other."

He wasn't grinning or anything that would have told her that he was anything less than serious.

"H-how do I know that you serious? That you just aren't lying to me or something like that?"

"Because, Hermione. Because im trying to tell you.. Im trying to tell you that I love you."

Denial flushed through Hermione. Was she hearing this correctly? Did she want to hear this? Was it real? "W-what did you say?" she stumbled over her words, unsure if what he said was real, or just a figment of her imagination.

Fred sighed and ran a hand though his long red hair. Hermione's hand tingled, and she clenched it shut to push away the impulse to touch reach forward and touch the long, silky strands.

"This really isn't how I imagined telling you…"

"F-Fred. I need you to tell me what you said. Tell me."

"Hermione. Come here." He held his arms out and she knew that soon as the words left his mouth that she would not be able to resist him again.

She stepped forward tentatively at first before bounding the distance between them and clinging to him, tears racking at her body and shaking her until she couldn't stand it. Fred just wrapped him arms around her, and tried to console her as best as he could.

Ironic. The boy that she was crying over is the one that she ran to for consoling.

"Ssh.. 'Mione. Its all better now. Don't cry. Ill fix it. Well fix it."

And then she felt stupid.

"We'll fix it?" She pulled away a bit and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with, what? It?

Was It.. Love?

"I.. jumped to conclusions," Hermione said, trying to apologize.

"I should have told you about Angelina and me."

"When? Yesterday? The day before? Fred, even though it has seemed like a lifetime ago, this all only began a few days ago."

He nodded, and then she smiled. It was funny. Who would think one person could go on such a roller coaster of emotions in such a short time?

Definitely not her. Not before. Not even a week ago.

Hermione's smile turned into laughter, and then into something more, until she was clinging to Fred, trying to hold back her hysterics.

"Bipolar much?" He smiled at her, and left out a slight laugh, but his eyes stayed serious.

"I'm sorry-" ha ha ha "its just.." ha ha ha ha, "so funny!"

"Mentally unstable."

"Probably!"

Fred just smiled and waited until her giggles turned into small hics and pants for breath.

"I love you, Hermione."

Didn't think she heard correctly. "Huh?"

"I SAID," insert deep breath, "THAT I LOVE YOU, HERMIONE GRANGER."

His voice echoed all over the property, and bounced off the hills and repeated itself.

Hermione's mouth fell open as a reaction and Fred reached over and snapped it close.

"Oww. Tongue."

"Is that all you have to say? 'Oww. Tongue'?"

"Fred, I want to rejoice, to jump up and down and be happy, but how do I know if you mean it? How can I be sure?"

"Because I said so."

And then she did feel it. She felt it in the way he said it, as sure about it as she was about a 24 hour day. In the way he looked at her, full of deep emotion and admiration (for what?). In the way he touched her, his hands firm and gentle at the same time. And in the way he talked to her. Not like the voice adults use, how they expect so much more from her than from anyone else. Nor in the way fellow students talk to her, like they either expect her to know everything, or not have enough room in her brain to fit anything that was common sense. He talked to her like she wanted be talked to; not down to, or like she would patronize everything he said.

"How does one react to those words?" she said softly, trying to gain control of her heart palpitations and loosing.

"I think I know the perfect way."

And he kissed her. And sure enough, she felt It. There, too.

It. It. Is this what she had been trying to figure out before? Is that the name of the emotion that she couldn't thumb, because she had never felt it before to recognize?

Was she in love with Fred Weasley?

Could the word love, which is so abused and overused, be used to hold what she felt for him? Could any word at all?

No. But the word love is the closest she'll ever come.

Of that she was sure.

"Fred Weasley," she said into his shirt. She gripped the material in her hands and stared right into his eyes when she spoke again, "I think you've shown me the definition of love, too."

Her message was clear, even though she just didn't come right out and say it:

I love you too, Fred.

"The only thing I knew before you, " he said smiling, his eyes brilliant.

(A/N: Took this from a poem I wrote in 7th grade. Changed some words around and stuff, it was about an old boyfriend. A bit wompy, I know. But it gets the point across well enough, I think. Yeah….)

Fred

He has

Perfect mind, soul, heart

… body.

He is perfect. Well, my perfect.

No such thing as perfect for everyone. No one without faults.

In him, I find minor.

In myself, major.

We are compatible

Yin and yang

Peanut butter and jelly (hey, it was 7th grade)

Cereal and milk

I love. He loves(?) My love.

My heart, he holds.

Does he love?

I doubt.

But I trust.

I love him not as I love Hogwarts,

Or gardens

Or reading.

Him above all that.

He is my Sun.

(A/N: Wow. I actually feel like this chapter was okay! And I'm sorry its shorter than most others but if you think about it, my first and second were so short, that the extremely long ones, 5 and 4, barely make up for them. Hehe. Thanks for reading and please review!)