Chapter 9 - Getting Comfy

Once they had exchanged pleasantries, Bill and Fleur took Victoire home to her bed. As soon as they departed, Fred gestured to the reading chair. "Want to get comfy?" Gods, did he actually want to cuddle her without the pretense of watching a film together?

Unless he did want to watch a film… "Do you want me to put something on the telly?" she asked tentatively.

"No, I think the music and lights are nice, don't you?"

"I do," she agreed, allowing him to pull her down into the chair with him.

They settled in, Fred's arms twining around her body as she nuzzled into his chest. For a few blissful moments, they quietly laid like that. Then, she felt Fred fidget a little before he broke the silence. "Hermione?"

The husky, breathless way that he spoke her name sent a shiver down her spine and sparked a pleasant tingle low in her belly. Lifting her head to see what he wanted, her breath caught and her heart began to pound when she met his intense gaze. Then, his arms were tightening further around her, pulling her close as he leaned down, his mouth seeking hers. And then he was kissing her; softly at first, a sweet, tender caress, his lips sliding sensually against hers.

All she could think was, Merlin, yes. Finally, this was finally happening, and it was everything. As she responded eagerly, Fred's kisses became more insistent, his tongue darting out to trace a path across the seam of her lips.

A quiet moan escaped as she shifted to reach him better. In one smooth motion, he rolled them so that they were on their sides facing each other. One of his hands gently stroked her face as his other reached down to grab her bum firmly. The contrasting sensations combined with the feel of his mouth on hers drove Hermione mad. She reached up, burying her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer as they proceeded to snog one another senseless.

Eventually, Hermione wasn't sure how long it had been, Fred pulled away. He pressed tender, affectionate kisses to her lips, then one to her forehead, before wrapping his arms around her and maneuvering them so that she lay snuggled into his side with her head resting against his chest.

Hermione felt like she could float away on a cloud of happiness as she snuggled comfortably with Fred. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and murmured, "Godric, I've wanted to do that for so long."

Sighing happily, she lifted her face for another kiss, then cuddled back into his warm embrace. After only a few minutes, she felt him exhale deeply, his chest rumbling as he quietly said, "As much as I hate to, I really need to go. George will have my head if I'm late tomorrow after leaving early tonight, and it's nearly eleven."

"What? How?" she asked stupidly. "It feels like Bill and Fleur just left twenty minutes ago."

Chuckling, Fred agreed, "I know, but it really is that late. Look," he pointed to the clock on her mantle and Hermione could see for herself that the time had managed to slip away. Kissing her forehead again, he promised, "But, I'll see you tomorrow for Christmas. You are planning to stay the night at The Burrow, aren't you?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for anything."

"Good, I'll see you around four then. We're closing at three, heading upstairs for quick showers, and then we'll be there. Mum's excited because she wants to serve dinner early so we can eat before exchanging presents."

Hermione nodded, knowing that Molly wanted to push the timeline up a bit this year. Bill and Fleur, as well as Percy and Oliver, had other plans for Christmas afternoon, so the Weasley family gift exchange would happen on Christmas Eve with only Victoire's Santa presents and everyone's stockings being left until Christmas morning.

Reluctantly, Hermione stood, allowing Fred to get to his feet, and walked with him to the floo. This night had turned out better than she dared to have dreamed.

After another long kiss goodnight, Fred stepped into the emerald flames. With an exaggerated wink and a brilliant smile, he was gone.

As soon as the fire died down, Hermione floated back over to her chair and sank into the warmth that still lingered from their bodies. She lay there in the soft glow of the fairy lights and thought that this may very well have been the best night of her life thus far. Who would have thought that she would be falling for Fred Weasley? If someone had suggested it, even this time last year, she would have laughed in their face.

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a light dusting of fresh snow outside her bedroom window where several owls waited with small parcels or cards. These would likely be from the friends that she didn't have plans to see that day. She'd sent out her gifts the previous morning, so all she needed to do was send back a quick thank you and Happy Christmas message.

When she was done with that and had opened her packages, she put on her dressing-gown, and a pair of thick woolen socks and went out to add a few logs to the fire and make herself a pot of tea. She planned to have a quiet morning before heading to The Burrow around noon.

After spending a few moments warming herself in front of the hearth, Hermione went into the kitchen to start the tea and saw that she had another gift from the secret admirer. With everything happening with Fred, she'd completely forgotten about him. Groaning, she made her way slowly toward the gift. What if the admirer wasn't Fred? The thought of having to turn someone down who clearly cared for her made her queasy.

She opened the package first this time and as soon as she saw what was inside, her breath caught in her throat and she gasped audibly. Staring open-mouthed, she felt the sharp prickle of tears sting her eyes.

As she turned the pages of the familiar book, she remembered how much she'd looked forward to their yearly Christmas Eve tradition. She'd been able to recite the words before she could read, but even now, her favorite part of this particular edition was the gorgeous illustrations.

Running her finger over the familiar text, she recalled the story of how her parents had come to own the volume… They had been trying for several years to conceive without success. Deciding that taking a break to get away from the stress of their everyday lives would be beneficial, they went on holiday to the US in December of 1978. While there, they'd spotted the beautiful picture book in a shop and decided to purchase it for luck, and with the hope that they would read it with their child every Christmas Eve.

It was in January of 1979, shortly after they'd returned home to the UK when they discovered that they were expecting a baby due in September. Hermione had been conceived on that holiday to the US when they purchased the book. That knowledge made it especially precious to her, and it had been devastating for her to find it completely destroyed, beyond hope for even magical repair, by the death eaters who had searched her parent's home during the war.

Having her own copy, even if it wasn't the same one owned by her parents, was amazing. It made her so bloody happy that she felt as if she would burst. This man, this lovely, wonderful man who was taking the time to make sure to give her all of these perfect gifts deserved to have a real chance to win her heart. But what would she do if it wasn't Fred?

Wanting to cry, both from joy, and apprehension, she opened the card with trembling fingers.

Hermione,

I know how much this particular book means to you. My wish is that one day we'll continue your family's tradition with our children. I can imagine reading this on Christmas Eve to a sweet little girl with your lovely curls.

Your Christmas Admirer

Sinking down onto the floor of her kitchen, she wept. Her tears fell hard and fast as she cried in grief for her parents, in fear that things wouldn't work out the way she so desperately hoped, and in joy that someone cared for her enough to spend the time learning exactly what she would love most.

Eventually, she cried herself out, completely exhausted by the combination of tears and conflicting emotions. Scrubbing her hands over her now swollen face, she sighed. She still needed to get ready. If she didn't show up, someone would come looking for her.

Getting up off the floor, she made a pot of tea and grabbed a muffin. A glance at the clock told her that it was nearly ten already. She'd packed everything that she needed to bring with her to The Burrow, but she did want to look nice. It was Christmas after all, and she would be seeing Fred.

After eating her simple breakfast, she dashed down the stairs to her potions lab and quickly got to work. While she didn't consider herself to be vain, she didn't want to deal with those questions today. Thankfully, she happened to have all the ingredients that she needed to whip up a salve that would remove the evidence of her crying jag.

Soon, she was soaking in a hot bath, the pale green paste that smelled faintly of cucumber and mint tingling pleasantly as it worked literal magic to soothe her irritated skin. The salts that she'd liberally added to the steamy water were quickly relaxing her tense muscles. Vaguely, she registered that she'd probably be later than her intended noon arrival at The Burrow, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The Weasleys were honestly unlikely to notice unless she was very late; they weren't exactly punctual as a rule.

Finally, she heaved herself from the water and toweled off before wrapping her body in the warmest, fluffiest dressing gown that she owned. After applying a light dusting of make-up, she dried and styled her hair, then went into the bedroom to dress. Quickly, she slipped into the outfit that she'd selected for the day.

The figure-hugging jeans paired nicely with the crimson wrap sweater. Adding a pair of black, low-heeled boots, a silver snowflake pendant, and matching earrings, she turned to see her reflection in the full-length mirror. It was perfect, she decided. The outfit was casual enough for a day with the Weasleys, but she felt pretty too.