"George couldn't make it today," Fred explains, slipping into the seat beside her. "He had to finish up some things at the shop. Hope you don't mind just getting the smarter twin this time."
Hermione smiles in relief. It feels as if she's drawn to him like a magnet, adjusting her position and her actions to reflect his – and George has been getting a little too perceptive lately. Widening her eyes, she says as innocently as she can, "But I thought you said George isn't coming."
He stares at her for a moment, shock written across his face, before bursting into rancorous laughter. "Prat."
"It's your influence," she teases. "Mum always warned me – " She breaks off, surprised by the force of emotion that hits her. She has long since reconciled herself to the fact that her parents are off living in Australia, happy in their little world with manufactured memories, with no recollection of her or of even having ever wanted a child. In their minds, children are a loveable hassle that they would never want for themselves.
"Yeah?" Fred prompts her, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"My mum always warned me not to get involved with troublemakers," she manages to choke out, all traces of her previous good humour fled and gone. "She said she wouldn't be there to guide me at school and that I needed to befriend people who would never steer me wrong."
With a sad smile, Fred loops his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in towards him until her head rests against his chest. "I think you need to accept that you're surrounded by troublemakers who might steer you wrong but would never hurt you, Granger." His words themselves are curt, but his tone tempers them.
He understands, she thinks. I don't have to explain.
But her relief is soon diverted with another emotion. Her heart leaps at the sound of her surname coming from his lips. It has been so long since he has called her that, and it sends her right back to her fifth year, when she struggled equally with being repulsed by his actions and attracted to his intelligence and casual charm. This time, however, it feels different, because it builds off their newfound trust and camaraderie and somehow becomes so much more. "I know. I stopped worrying about that back in first year when I realised that the business with Fluffy and the philosopher's stone fell into the troublemaking category but that was worth it anyway. It's just… I miss them. I miss them being here, and I miss talking to them, and I miss the idea of introducing them to people who are important in my life."
She doesn't want to say it aloud – it doesn't seem appropriate – but she also misses the fact that she will never be able to introduce them to a boyfriend or discuss relationship problems with them. They met Ron, and they knew she fancied him, but that was long before the pair started dating. They met Viktor, but the pair had already broken up by that point. And, in the future, she won't even have the memory of a poorly timed meeting to placate her. She will never have the chance to take a boy home to her parents.
They will never meet Fred Weasley.
"I didn't talk to them much, but they seemed like wonderful people. A little preoccupied by everything, but who wouldn't have been?"
Her head jerks up in shock. "What did you say?"
"They seemed nice," he replies. "Er, when I met them at Diagon Alley?"
"I forgot... I forgot you met them."
"Er, yeah?" His eyebrow flicks up as he watches her expectantly.
"I – I'm glad you did," she explains, no longer caring if she's playing her hand too early. "I'm glad you had the chance to meet them."
"So am I."
Neither of them speak. There just isn't anything more to say. Instead, they sit there in silence, enjoying the stillness and the peace until, eventually, they draw apart and return to their work, shooting one another smiles and glances of understanding and promise throughout the rest of the morning.