Trouble

Hermione/Fred

[Off the Block Competition: Backstroke, Medium - ignore canon and write fanon pairings only]

[On This Day Competition: Easy - day: May 25th; genre: romance; prompts: gently, pristine]

[Legendary Gods & Goddesses Challenge : Apollo - Write about a highly skilled and enlightened person. Alternatively, write about a beautiful male character.]

[Disney Character Competition: Lumiere - write about Fred Weasley]

Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born

Fred had felt worse pain than this before.

Much, much worse.

Like the time he'd fallen off his broom when he was eight and broken his ankle, and then hobbled around on it for three weeks to avoid telling Mum. Or when he and George had been running from Filch and tried to pop through a door that was actually just a section of wall pretending to be a door. Or last summer, when he'd tested the first Puking Pastille and had an upset stomach for weeks.

All of those were worse pain than this.

Really.

"You're bleeding through your bandage again," George said from his bed when Fred got up to their room.

Fred looked down at his hand. Sure enough, the white cloth he'd bound tightly over his wound was soaked with blood.

"Mine is, too," George added, holding up his hand to show him.

"Does yours still sting?" Fred asked.

"All the time."

Fred groaned. "I don't understand. It's May 25th. That's six weeks since we left Hogwarts. Six bloody weeks - "

George snorted. "Bloody."

"Six bloody weeks since our last detention with Umbridge. So why - " he paused to unwrap his bandage " - won't it stop - " he threw it on the floor " - bleeding?" He held his hand to the light, where the roughly scrawled I must not tell lies was still oozing blood.

"Beats me." George tapped his bandage with his wand. The blood disappeared. "I've been cleaning it every few hours, but it keeps coming back."

"So what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait to bleed out?"

"We can't go to St. Mungo's. We don't have the money."

Fred stooped to retrieve his bandage. "I know someone smarter than all of St. Mungo's combined," he said. "And she's free."

"Who, Hermione? Good luck," George said as he admired the pristine skin on the back of his other hand.

"Aren't you coming?"

"And sit through a lecture from Prefect Granger? I'd rather bleed to death."

"Well, then, George. For once in our lives, we're not identical."

George snorted. "Call the Prophet."

Fred grinned as he turned on the spot and disappeared.

I've been saved by a woman

She won't let me go

Hermione was in the common room finishing her homework when she heard someone outside arguing with the Fat Lady.

" . . . Don't have the password, I can't let you in!" the portrait said.

"You know me," the other voice snapped, and Hermione looked up, because she knew that voice. She crossed to the portrait hole and swung the Fat Lady forward.

"Fred Weasley," she said, shaking her head. "So you've come to your senses."

"What?" Fred, with a rude hand gesture at the Fat Lady, stepped inside. "About what?"

"Coming back to Hogwarts!"

Fred sat down in an armchair. "I'm not back. I'm just in a little bit of trouble." He held up a bandaged hand. "It's from Umbridge," he said. "It hasn't stopped bleeding since we left. We think she cursed the pen to make it worse for the students she hates the most."

Hermione was torn between helping and giving him a speech about education, but help won out in the end. She knelt on the ground and gently took his injured hand between both of hers. "Umbridge is terrible," she said as she unwound the bandage. "I wouldn't put it past - oh, Fred!"

"What?"

Unlike Harry, whose scars had healed over the next day, Fred's hand was bleeding freely. Hermione whipped out her wand and Vanished the blood, but more rushed out to take its place. Tears sprang to her eyes. How could someone be so evil?

"Oh, don't cry, it's just a bit of blood," Fred started, but she shook her head.

"Not the blood." She began to rummage through her bag, one hand still holding his. "How could someone do this to another person? How could she do this to you?"

"I'm all right, honestly."

She found what she was looking for: a flask labeled Murtlap Essence. She emptied the bottle into a large bowl. "Here," she said, guiding his hand into the bowl. "This will help with the pain."

"Thank you."

She bobbed her head once.

"It's good to see you again," he said. "Home isn't the same without Prefect Granger scolding us all the time."

She laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it.

"Merlin, Hermione, I'm all right."

She looked up at him. She'd never done that before, never really looked at him. He was a redhead, sure, with the trademark Weasley freckles, but he was also handsome, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones and long eyelashes that cast shadows over his face when he looked down at her. He was hurt, too, and she'd always been a sucker for stories where the damsel saves the hero. "Y-your hand should be done," she whispered. "Bring some murtlap home to George, if he's still bleeding."

He pulled his hand out of the liquid and dried it on his robes. "Thanks," he said, standing. She stood with him. "Really. Thank you."

He was looking at her, too, she realized, and she suddenly felt very warm and fluttery. "Don't go," she said before she could think about the words.

He smirked, but there was a genuine smile in his eyes. "Oh, my, does Prefect Granger have a little crush?"

She turned red. "I just want to make sure you're okay," she snapped.

He reached out, almost as if he couldn't help himself, and gently touched her cheek with the hand that was no longer bleeding. "I'm okay."

She took a step closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "But I'll be sure to visit often in case anything else goes wrong."

Without giving herself time to think, she turned her head and gave him a quick kiss.

He raised his eyebrows. She closed her eyes and waited for the jokes, the ridicule, the Prefect comments, the humiliation.

But all he said was, "Extremely often," and then he was out the door.