Snitch: Erm... not smut but like... alluded to references in the second paragraph and the 4th paragraph from the first line break. I have no idea what your limits are but they don't get graphic and add a lot of feeling tot he story. Your call.

Contrary to Fred's earlier promises, when they fell into bed afterwards he was heartbreakingly slow and tender. She knew what it was but she didn't want to put a label on it. It took two to dance that piece and she just couldn't admit that.

Instead she tried to make him understand with the waves of her body and the gentle kisses and touches that let him know she cared. She hoped he could feel the way she wished it were different when she held him tight against her chest afterwards, memorizing the feeling of her fingers in his hair and his tongue on her neck.

"You haven't smoked since you got here," she hummed when the moment was passing into something a bit too essential for comfort.

"Not true. I smoked right when I got here."

"Ass."

She swatted lightly at his back. He pushed up from her chest with a stretch and she watched the way his body moved in response. He was so fucking beautiful.

"Do you need to?" she asked. "I hate it but I don't want you having a mental breakdown from withdrawal."

"Hmm?" he questioned, shaking loose his shoulders. "Oh, no. I don't actually smoke."

"What?!" she hissed, glaring at him and pulling the covers to her chest.

She didn't know why. It was a weak punishment at best and the amusement that danced across his lips seemed to agree.

"Have you ever seen me with a cigarette?"

"You lit one in my bed!"

"And that would have been the rare exception. I started carrying a box around because Lee said it was an 'important part of the aesthetic'. I had forgotten they were in my pocket until I was trying not to think about you on your knees in front of me."

She kicked him in the thigh and he fell back over her pinning down her arms when she swatted at him.

"So violent."

"Told you," she gnashed her teeth at the air just as he leaned back.

"So you did. But I always live for a bit of danger."

She loved the easy way they flirted. He gave out smiles like dandelions, sharing every bit of himself without pause for the consequences. She had never known someone to inspire so much happiness in others.

"So then why didn't you just put it out when I asked?"

"Well…" His eyes shifted deviously before he dipped down as if he was telling her a secret. "You started touching all over me and I just couldn't help myself."

She let her heart melt against him, pulling him to her chest and kissing him as if it were the last time she ever would. It basically was anyway. When he settled back next to her, staring up at the ceiling with a bittersweet smile on his face she knew he was thinking the same thing.

"What did George want?"

"Hm?"

"George?"

"Oh, you mean before my completely insane, cabin-fever fueled emotional outburst?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"Apparently some big name from LA got a hold of Lee. He wants to come to our next show with some friends."

Hermione smiled to herself, silently thanking Theodore Nott and his tendency to drink and post every second of his life to social media.

"That's amazing Fred. It sounds like it could be a big break for you."

"Eh, I don't buy it. That kind of thing doesn't just happen you know. I'll still play the show of course, but I doubt it's legit."

"Don't be so sure. You all are amazing and I am sure you'll get there… if given the opportunity."

"I would have never thought the ballerina would be the one to have blind faith in my punk band," he joked.

"The world is funny in that way."

He agreed and they spent the rest of the night telling stories about nothing and just touching each other. Sometimes it went somewhere but most of it was just spent lying in each other's arms and ignoring the coming day. At some point, the snow finally stopped and the clouds cleared enough that they could see the moon shining through her window. She was fighting off sleep, her back curled against his chest with her wrapped tightly around his.

"You are beautiful in the moonlight, did you know that?" he whispered.

"Hmm, I didn't."

"I wish we could stay like this." He kissed her neck, pulling her tightly against him.

"Me too." It slipped out before she could stop it, her voice small and pained.

"But we can't." There wasn't a question this time and the realization lanced through her like a shard of ice in her heart.

"I'm sorry, Fred."

"Me too Doll, me too." He nuzzled into her hair, inhaling deeply. "What do you say to one last memory, before we have to go back?"

She, of course, agreed; too tired to do anything other than let her body feel the way it wanted to as everything from the past few days spilled out of her. His eyes glowed in the moonlight, begging for her to understand what she wouldn't let him voice. He didn't say anything when she started to cry but he didn't tell her to stop either.

He kissed away the tears as their bodies moved as one, trying desperately to convince themselves that this wasn't anything special. That the feelings would fade and they could go back to their lives without feeling like part of them was missing.

They finished with a flurry of kisses, still pressed against each other long after their pulses had stopped racing and boney hips and ribs dug into the soft skin of one another. He finally fell asleep with his lips pressed against hers, tears that could have belonged to either of them still wet on his cheeks.

"I'm not worthy of you Fred Weasley. Not by half."

She loathed to fall asleep. Sleep would mean the next day came all the quicker. But she was helpless when surrounded by him. So she let the rhythm of his heart lull her into oblivion.

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They woke to the sound of the gentle strums of an acoustic guitar and a keening male voice, singing of love and loss in a language neither of them spoke well enough to understand. He still held her close, even though his touches were now awkward and unnatural.

"Apparently the power is back on," she said.

"Your neighbor is a woman of variety," he chuckled his hands trailing along her spine.

"You called her a bitch not two days ago."

"Well, today I feel more empathetic," he sighed as she started to shift, burying his face into her hair. "If we don't leave the bed I don't have to go."

She smiled sadly, staring out the window as the sun streamed in. It was warm against her skin, an unwelcome heat in their world contained by a snow globe of ice.

Eventually they did have to get up, to use the bathroom and start breakfast. Neither of them touched the other after exiting the bed. It still felt too raw, too wrong. Like they had outgrown a piece of clothing but couldn't bear to throw it away.

They had a breakfast of coffee and Hermione's last egg split between them.

"I could bring some food by later if the stores are open," Fred suggested shrugging on his coat. "I think I owe you for feeding me for three days."

The snow plows blew through the wider streets around the neighborhood but it would be a while yet before they cleared the small side roads. Already she could hear the sounds of shovels scraping outside and people moving around. She hoped the doorman had been able to find the shovel Fred had said he returned.

"No, it's okay. I need to get out of here anyway. Going a bit crazy."

That and she didn't want to face the memories yet.

"I just hope Angelina and George are clothed. That couch has seen enough of my brother to mentally scar a small nation. No need to add me to the injury list." He moved his violin case from one hand to the other, not yet ready to leave but having no reason to stay.

"Well thanks Do-...Hermione." He cleared his throat and she silenced the whine that tried to slip from her throat. "Putting me up like this was really nice of you. I'm sure it was a pain."

"No trouble at all Fred. Just remember to get a spare key for next time."

"Right. Right." He opened the door, rubbing the back of his head and changing one last glance at her. There was a smile on his face but it was brittle and broken. "Well… one last kiss for the road?"

"Can we stop at one?" she asked.

"Probably not." He shrugged and stepped out into the hallway. She could hear his heart wailing, even as he dragged his body away from her. "See you later, Hermione."

"Bye."

The door clicked shut and she stared at it for what felt like hours, the sounds of the city slowly coming alive and sinking in through her windows. For a few days the city did sleep, and it felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

She sighed regretfully, crossing her arms over her body and took one last look at the door before shoving all those sticky emotions somewhere deep in the back of her mind.

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Four days later she was cursing every fucking decision in her life that had lead to her dancing with Draco Malfoy. She groaned as she panted on the floor staring up at the ceiling. He appeared over her with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Is nap time over yet, Granger? I would like to get some actual rehearsal in."

Her body was angry and out of condition. Even after easing back into it she was still bitterly behind and Malfoy made a point to remind her of that fact every chance he got.

"Fuck off. I didn't exactly have room to be doing grand jetes in my apartment for the past week."

"I neglect to see how that is my problem."

Still he held out an arm to her, hauling her up to a stand as the other dancers still stumbled around like newly born deer. McGonagall was shaking her head at a girl on the barre, hiking the dancer's leg higher as she corrected her in a heavy Scottish brogue.

Hermione stretched out her arms, following Malfoy back into position. The theater didn't wait and they had a mere four weeks before the spring performances began. She nodded to one of the girls by the stereo before settling into position, Malfoy's hands hovering lightly around her waist. The first few bars of the Sacrificial Dance came dripping out of the speakers. It was dark and brooding as she moved, relying on Malfoy to steady her as she struggled to balance against him.

A serene smile and a look of adoration blended across his features giving the impression of a man in love as he guided her to her death. For a long time, she had thought that Malfoy was an amazing actor. It would always freak her out with how quickly his expressions would shift as soon as the music started and ended.

Now after seeing the way Fred looked at her she couldn't help but notice the hollowness behind his eyes and the too perfect upturn of his lips. It was a pale imitation of the real thing.

Eventually he stepped away, allowing her to pirouette in tight circles again and again until she lowered herself to the floor in a grand, sweeping death. The music faded out, the sounds of various other routines echoing around them.

"Better. But your head still isn't in the game." He pulled her up again.

"Just a bit jumbled from the days off. I'll pull it together."

"And I supposed it has nothing to do with that derelict over in the doorway?"

Hermione spun wildly, her soft shoes slipping at the unusual movement. Malfoy caught her waist as she stumbled. Say what you will about him, but Malfoy had never let her fall.

"Take five and come back to me as something more useful."

She barely heard Malfoy as she rose up on pointe, taking fluttering steps toward the amused redhead and hoping that if Mistress McGonagall saw her that she would think she was still practicing. She pulled him into the hall by his shirt.

"You look really cute in that outfit, I am disappointed there is no tutu though."

"Tutu's are only for performances." Hermione still brushed at the skirt of her unitard. "How did you get back here? You aren't even a student anymore."

"You classical types are so straight laced. I just jumped the welcome counter."

"You can't do that!" She failed to fight down the smile pulling at her lips.

"Eh, I am a delinquent dropout now. I can do whatever I want." His hand ghosted across her bare back sending a shiver down her back. "Well, almost anything."

Hermione stepped back after a second, removing his skin from hers. She didn't look at his face, unable to stand whatever heartbroken look she would see.

"Did you need something?" she asked.

"I just wanted to tell you that the LA type I told you about was coming to our show tonight. I was hoping you could too… just for good luck?"

"You know, phones exist for a reason."

"Well, I would have texted you but as it turns out my battery did freeze."

The urge to smile was weak. Every part of her screamed to throw her arms around him; at the very least congratulate him and agree to go like she would have done a few weeks ago. But that's not what they were anymore.

"I don't think I can. We're horribly behind after that snow storm and Malfoy will probably insist on practicing at least until ten."

"I get it," he said. "Just thought I would offer."

Fred stood silently until she was forced to look at him. God he looked good, even with the dark rings under his eyes that matched hers. His hands were shoved in his pockets, probably so he would keep them to himself. He looked totally out of place in the regal sunlit studio, clad in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

"Granger?" Malfoy popped his head out of the studio and frowned. "If you are done socializing I would like to see if you've become any less of a hippo than five minutes ago."

Fred didn't turn as his body tensed, anger rolling through his shoulders as he clenched his jaw.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley."

Malfoy barely glanced at the redhead before his eyes flicked back to hers. It belatedly occurred he was actually checking in on her. She shook her head once and he nodded.

"I'll be back in a few. You'll have to suffer a few more minutes looking at yourself in the mirror."

"Maybe it will be enough to get me through the rest of the day after having to dance with you," Malfoy scoffed before he disappeared back into the room, latching the door behind him.

"He shouldn't talk to you like that," Fred spat, glaring at the floor.

"It's Malfoy. It's what he does. Besides he's right, I'm clumsy and out of practice."

"No," Fred corrected harshly, his eyes flicking up to shine at her. "You were beautiful."

"Fred… I can't-"

"I can never be like that with you can I?"

"What?" Hermione questioned as his eyes shot back to the floor. "You mean dancing? Like ballet? I mean… it would take you ten years to catch up and as much as I hate to say it, Malfoy has an unfortunate amount of talent and..."

She trailed off when she noticed his hands fisted in his pockets. He squeezed them once and then released the tension, that cracked smile on his face.

"Right. Well, if you happen to slip away we will be at the Badger's Hole starting at nine."

"I won't-"

"Later, Hermione."

He turned away and glided down the hall, seemingly unphased by the world. She wished she would have kissed him before he left her apartment, that one last time. She wanted one decent goodbye to look back on. Not these painful stilted conversations that felt like she was reopening an old wound.

Hermione took a deep breath to center herself before walking back to the door. When she opened it, Malfoy was waiting to her left. He ran his eyes over her exactly once before frowning.

"You alright?"

"Fine. Let's try again."

"If you trod on my feet because you are distract-"

"Again Malfoy," she snapped, letting her emotions fade completely from her body as she took the starting position. After a moment he pushed off the wall, snapping at the girl by the stereo to start the music.

Notes:

The Barre:

It's a ballet bar, like the stick they lean on to stretch and hone balance. Freaking frenchness. They add 'e's onto everything