If you're still taking requests, can you do one where Fred gets home from the shop, or just being out, and finds Hermione in his Christmas Weasley sweater (with is a few sizes to big for her) reading a book. Thx :)
-sibunakittykate

A light snow was falling, sticking to the cobblestones and the signs and the cloaks and hair of passersby. Fred watched through the shop window, the sign long since turned to "closed." A flurry of procrastinating Christmas shoppers had descended on the shop, cutting things close. It was only the December 20 and he knew the crowds would only grow thicker, but he - for once - had his shopping done ages ago.

He looked down at the ledger he was balancing and finished comparing numbers before closing the book for the night and putting away his ink and quill. He still wasn't sure how it had been three years since he and George had opened the shop. Business had only gotten better and better as time went on and even Molly had finally broken down and given them both a tearful expression of how proud she was of her twin sons.

Fred stood up from the counter and stretched before putting out the lights and grabbing his own cloak to step out into the snow. He locked the door behind him and ambled down the snow-covered cobblestones towards his flat. Hermione had mentioned having a busy day at the ministry and that she wasn't sure if she would be home for dinner. He could always stop 'round George's to pick him up for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron.

He could hear Christmas carols coming from somewhere, gently magnified magically for atmosphere aimed at the shoppers heading home. In his head, he could still hear Sirius Black singing "God Rest You Merry Hippogriffs" at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. That felt like two lifetimes ago now.

It wasn't long before Fred found himself at his front door and slid the key into the lock, the metal scraping against metal. He smiled as he opened the door to smell baking potatoes and beef and saw the warm glow of the lights. Hermione had made it home after all.

"I'm home!" he called, shaking the snow from his hair and brushing it off his cloak as he kicked off his boots and closed the door. The warmth of the flat enveloped him after the chill of winter outside.

"In here," she called back, distractedly. Fred could already tell she was probably reading.

He walked through the doorway into the living room and smiled as the image before him punched him in the chest with emotion. Hermione had twisted her hair into a messy bun that sat near the top of her head. She was curled into a ball on the couch, resting a book on the arm of the squishy sofa. Her soft wool socks were pulled up, slightly bunched around her knees and the rest of her legs were bare except for what was covered by Fred's too-large-for-her Christmas sweater from the year before. She'd pushed up the sleeves to free her hands, and the neck was wide enough to leave space around her own bare.

Fred gulped.

He crossed the room and, restraining himself, bent down to kiss her chastely before sitting cross-legged on the couch next to her. "What are you reading?" he asked, tilting his head to look at the cover.

Hermione looked up and smiled, holding up the book. "It's 'A Christmas Carol,'" she said, smiling. "It's a Muggle classic and it's one of my favorites."

"What's it about?" Fred asked, curiously. "Sounds like a bunch of people trying to pick a song."

She laughed and shook her head. "That's absolutely what it's about," she said.

Fred smiled broadly and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back. "I knew it. See, Hermione, and you never thought I was smart enough for you. Now I'm even right in on the Muggle thing."

Hermione nodded and hummed a sarcastic, mhmm. "I'm starting to feel inferior, really. It's upsetting." She laughed and said, "It's funny. I always thought I was actually reading a book about a miser who's visited by three ghosts to get him to turn his life around on Christmas Eve, but you're definitely right. It's just a book of Christmas carols."

"God rest you merry hippogriffs," Fred started to sing before he was stopped abruptly by Hermione crawling over and sliding herself tightly against his side. He let out a contented sigh and brought his arms down from behind his head to pull her closer until she was sitting on his lap.

In retrospect, it hadn't been his most brilliant move. If he'd had a hard time thinking straight before...

He tried to distract himself. "You're making dinner?" he asked innocently.

Hermione smirked. "It's done. I turned off the oven right before you walked in." Fred didn't have time to react. Hermione had leaned down and pressed her lips to his with such ferocity that it took his breath away. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, as close as she could be, until they were pressed together on the couch.

His lips traveled to her neck and he heard her let out a sigh, encouraging him to continue. A tugging below his belt reminded him of what he'd been trying to ignore and Hermione pulled away to smirk at him.

"We can always reheat dinner."