A/N: I'm finally back! I'm so sorry that it's so late. This chapter probably underwent the most frustrating reconstructions. Originally, when I brainstormed this fic, Hermione and Fred were more along the lines of friends who made out in broom cupboards but accidentally fell in love, and Fred never told her until the crazy party. However, eventually I realized that wouldn't actually work, and was far out of character for these passionate people. So secret lovers they became, and this chapter was born. I wrote a really rough draft, and continued writing the fic; once I started posting chapters, I knew I needed to make major alterations. And I went through about 1000 iterations. Originally, I had it exactly where I wanted it, with a lovely message about how it took me awhile to get over Rowling's Tweet, and why I chose to keep writing HP fics, but then, my computer crashed. After three hours of hunting, I could only find an autosave from December. This is probably the chapter I am the least happy with, but it's finally to a point where I can publish the damn thing.
This chapter's song is "Nicotine" by Panic! At the Disco. Trigger warnings include: a (metaphoric) mention of addiction and drugs.
Hermione woke with a start.
Her hands fumbled over the bedside table, groping for her wristwatch. She squinted at it, and saw that it was barely five in the morning.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
She buried her face into her pillow, groaning in frustration and hammering her fists into the mattress as silently as was possible.
Regardless, Ginny stirred, rolling over to face Hermione. She yawned, her eyes blinking blearily at her friend in the early morning twilight. "Wha's goin' on?"
Hermione grinned kindly. "Nothing, Ginny," she replied soothingly. "I just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep."
The redhead smiled, murmuring something unintelligible, and rolled back over, snoring softly.
The smile slipped off of the other girl's face, and she rolled onto her back, dragging her pillow over her face.
This was such a mistake. Why did I agree to spend the summer at the Burrow?
If anyone asked, it was because Ginny Weasley's pout was far more persuasive than any facial expression had a right to be, and Hermione was rather fond of the vivacious little witch.
In reality, the prospect of spending all summer with her friends had been more than enough to persuade Hermione to beg her parents to spend the three month long holiday at the Weasley's home.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself. Anything was better than admitting she'd developed an addiction, or that her drug of choice was Fred himself.
It had all started the morning after the kiss. She'd woken with a start, still slumped over on the common room sofa.
Her tongue had darted out to wet her lips, and she frowned, noticed how swollen they were.
Her eyes had widened suddenly. Oh Godric, she'd thought, a dazed half-grin stretching her still sore smile. Fred kissed me!
She'd raked a hand through her hair, groaning as a wave of embarrassment washed over her in the next moment. He'd kissed her, but after throwing her back down on the couch, it was clear he'd regretted the decision. She'd stumbled her way to the showers, hoping the hot water would clear her clouded thoughts.
As she'd washed, she wondered where it'd gone wrong. Why would he kiss me in the first place, if the thought were so off-putting? Was I not…good at it?
She'd snorted, retorting back at herself, Yes, you were awful at it. That's why he pulled you into his lap.
Oh.
She'd initially forgotten that he'd pulled her astride his lap. Was he angry that I told him to stop?
That seemed very out of character for Fred, but so was snogging someone he'd been arguing with.
She'd sighed heavily, knowing she would have to talk to him to make any sense of this. The conversation would no doubt be uncomfortable, but was necessary if their friendship was to survive.
She'd been planning what she wanted to say to him the entire way to the Great Hall.
When she'd arrived, she scanned the room for the familiar mop of red hair. When she spotted him, one final memory of the previous night hit her smack in the chest, nailing her to the spot.
She had feelings for Fred Weasley.
Her lungs had felt like they were burning, and she was viscerally aware that she could feel neither her hands nor her feet.
As if in slow motion, Fred had picked his head up, his eyes a blink away from gazing in her direction. Hermione hadn't been sure what she'd find behind his eyes, but she knew she couldn't handle it. She'd robotically made her way to an empty seat at the far end of the table, pointedly looking anywhere but at Fred.
Every logical thing she'd planned on saying to him fell out of her head, replaced by an all-consuming desire to say anything that would get him to kiss her again.
Her body had trembled at the very notion, and she knew she would have to get over these feelings before she could even consider speaking to him.
Thankfully, exams were over, so she could actually devote some time to peeling Fred's name from the butterflies in her stomach. The butterflies were impossible to catch, though, and it wasn't until she'd sat in the middle of the end of year feast that she realized that two weeks had slipped by.
How could I have been so careless! She groaned internally. I can't let a whole summer pass without talking to him!
At least Ginny had solved that problem for her.
Since they'd arrived at the Burrow, Fred had clearly been avoiding her.
She was sure of it. Before term ended, it would have been harder to tell; they were two academic years apart, and didn't run in the same social circles. She spent ninety percent of her time with Harry and Ron. Even if she counted up all the times those two patently ignored her simply because they were staring at people they fancied or were busy etching phalluses onto their Potions desks, she wouldn't have a solid case to say they were avoiding her, let alone someone she only saw at mealtimes or during free periods.
Now she spent all day trapped in the same house as Fred. Before the kiss, she would have been greeted with a happy wave and wide grin, or at the very least, a spine-tingling wink. Now she watched his spine stiffen and his jaw set. Within fifteen minutes of her arrival, he got up and left the room, no matter what he'd been in the middle of doing.
For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. Rationally, she understood why he'd be a bit miffed at her ignoring him for two weeks, but they were friends, weren't they? What had happened in two weeks that Fred couldn't possibly forgive?
Hermione rubbed at her sleep-crusted eyes.
Normally, she would have simply cut her losses and moved on with her life. Instead, it felt like a festering sore because it just had to be Fred. It could have been anyone, but the Fates chose Fred. Smart, wonderful Fred, with his gorgeous ginger hair, and fantastic freckles -
You stop that.
She glared down at her own chest, silently chastising her heart.
It's your fault we're in this mess.
She rolled her eyes at her emotional foolhardiness. It's just a crush! Hermione Granger was not the sort of girl who let a boy devastate her like this. It had been four weeks already for Merlin's sake! She wasn't about to spend the rest of her life tiptoeing around Fred Weasley's ego. They were going to talk about this like rational mages, and if he didn't want to be friends, well then so be it.
You really think having it out with Fred's going to stop you dreaming about those kisses?
She wasn't so naïve to assume that facing Fred would be an immediate remedy to her heartache, but she knew it would give her the closure she needed to heal.
Her hand gently traced over her lips, and despite herself, the faintest of smiles stretched her face. If she focused hard enough, she could still picture the sensation of his lips on hers. She wondered if she'd ever receive another kiss so wonderful. Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, she wondered if Fred would be the one kissing her.
If she confronted Fred, she knew any chance of that would be ruined. Perhaps a few more nights of dreaming wouldn't hurt.
When she woke up quivering in a cold sweat a few hours later, with a naïve Ginny standing over her, worried about her friend's health, Hermione decided that enough was enough.
She and Fred were going to talk about this, today, come high water or Hades.
All that stood in her way were the other seven inhabitants of the Burrow. This was not a conversation she was keen on having with anyone present, and getting Fred alone without arousing suspicions would be nigh impossible.
She'd have to get creative, and clever. So incredibly clever.
And what a clever witch she was.
She felt most guilty for lying to Arthur. He was such a good and trusting man, and hadn't given a second thought to her request.
"Mr. Weasley - "
"Arthur, please, Hermione."
She'd smiled kindly. "Arthur. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to pop 'round my parents' house after work? They said they were doing well in their last letter, but it would make me feel much better to know for sure."
Hermione felt no guilt in lying to Percy. He was a prat, and even she couldn't stand his self-importance. She might've felt guiltier lying to Molly, but there wasn't any chance that she'd be found out.
"Molly, an owl came with this letter for you." She handed the older witch the forged message.
Mrs. Weasley's face lit up with a kind smile. "Thank you, dear." Her eyes had scanned the letter, her expression souring the further she read. "Oh dear, Muriel wants a visit. Thank Merlin she wants Percy along. How he ever sits through her inane nattering I'll never know."
"Patience of a saint, that one."
Molly leaned in conspiratorially. "I doubt the old bat will even remember sending this letter. Her memory keeps getting foggier and foggier."
Hermione was grateful that laughter was expected, because she couldn't have contained hers if she'd wanted to.
At least with Harry and Ron, she wasn't lying at all. She had meant to talk to them about fixing the car, and this simply gave her incentive.
She'd found the two wizards in the shed, vainly trying to smooth the sheet metal out with a mallet.
"That's never going to work."
Ron huffed at her. "And what do you suggest?"
She proffered a slip of paper. "It's the address for a salvage yard. Tell them what parts you need, and they'll let you haul them home."
Ron frowned at the address suspiciously. "And we can really get the parts we need picking through rubbish?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Most of them, yes. It's a sight cheaper than having a professional repair the Anglia. Neither of you has enough Galleons combined to afford that."
Ron and Harry looked at each other and shrugged. "Alright," Harry agreed easily.
The ginger wizard nodded. "Dad doesn't often get nice things. Fine."
She hadn't exactly lied to Ginny, but Hermione still felt guilty about manipulating her emotions.
"I wonder if she gets lonely, up there on the hill by herself."
"Who?"
"Luna."
Ginny looked pensive. "It has been a while since I've called. I'll pop round, see if she'd like to have a picnic."
George was the easiest. She didn't have to lie to him at all, and they'd struck a cool camaraderie.
"You know, besides me and Fred, there's no one else here."
George stared at her, frozen part-way out of the window. "And your point is?"
"I'm merely observing the fact that you could use the Floo. No one here is going to stop you."
His eyes were saucers, incredulous. "You're not going to tell?"
"Leave me out of your hare-brained pranks for a month, and I'll consider it."
He grinned at her shrewdness. "You drive a hard bargain, Hermione. Alright, you've got yourself a deal."
"Just mind Angie's dad doesn't catch you!"
It took all of Hermione's effort not to burst out in a jig when the last of the green smoke cleared from the fireplace, signaling that George was well and truly gone, and that she and Fred really did have the whole house to themselves.
She was grinning like a madwoman when the clattering of dishes brought her back to herself. This was it.
She swallowed hard and took the deepest of breaths. You can do this, she muttered to herself, as she stalked toward the kitchen.
Fred stood, cautiously adding several plates to the teetering tower of dishes being scrubbed in the sink.
Hermione leaned against the entryway for a moment, watching the young wizard, and waiting for him to turn and see her.
She cleared her throat when it became apparent that Fred was oblivious to her presence.
At the sound of someone else's company, he whirled around. When he saw Hermione lurking in the doorway, his eyes began shifting back and forth looking for any means of escape. Part of him was dying to speak to her, to apologize for being such a prat and try to make amends. Another part was still childishly blaming her for avoiding him, and wanted to say cruel things so she would hurt as much as he did. He didn't know which part of him would win, so it was better if he walked away.
Sensing his desire to escape, Hermione casually shot a Leg-Locker curse at him, startling him and sending him careening face-first to the floor.
"Cor, Granger," he yelled, his voice muffled by the floorboards. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
She took a centering deep breath. You can do this, Hermione. "I'm keeping you from running away from me."
Fred struggled against the spell, flopping around like a fish out of water. "And what makes you think I'm running away from you," he ground out breathlessly, having finally rolled onto his back.
She arched one dark brow as he fought against his numb legs and gravity in an effort to sit upright. "It's been weeks since you stayed in a room with me for longer than three seconds if you could help it."
He glared at her, peeved that she'd seen through him. "What of it?"
"What do you mean, what of it? Why are you avoiding me?"
He scowled at her. "Don't be stupid. You know why."
She stared at him. "No, I don't. I can't even fathom why you ran in the first place!" Frustrated, she released his legs from the curse, reached down to grab his collar, and hauled him to his feet to face her. "I just want to know why you ran. What did I do wrong?"
He snorted and shoved her away from him. "What do you care? In fact," he snarled, rage overtaking him, "What do I care? I don't owe you an answer." He sneered down his nose at her. "You're just the bookworm that follows Ronniekins and the Boy Blunder around."
Fred made to storm out of the kitchen, already self-chastising internally, but was once again stopped dead in his tracks; this time it wasn't Hermione's spell work halting him, but her voice, cool, and level as gunfire.
"If that's all I am to you, why did you kiss me?"
He kept his back towards her. She'd never brought the kiss up before now, never acknowledged what he'd done, and so Fred had banished it from his memory, with some difficulty. Now, everything he'd spent weeks forgetting came flooding back, and he felt his blood run cold with pain. "What does it matter? 'S not like you're my first, and you won't be my last," he spat at her.
His harsh tone shattered her, and her composed manner broke. "But you were mine."
That got Fred's full attention, and he finally turned to face her once more, stupefaction written all over his face. "I…excuse me?"
"You were my first kiss."
He gaped at her, his bobbling jaw making him look rather like a guppy. He was certain his brain was going to short circuit under the stress of so many warring emotions.
Here, a glimmer of pride at being her first.
There, a wave of guilt at taking that without her express consent.
In the back of his mind, a flare of anger that she'd not told him for so long.
In the front of his mind, self-loathing washed over him.
"I…Granger…I'm…I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
Something about the moronic look on Fred's face combined with his pitiful excuse for an apology made something deep inside Hermione snap, and all her rage bubbled up to the surface.
"You're sorry? That's it? That's…that's all I get? I don't even get an explanation, and you think 'sorry' is going to cover it?"
"What do you want from me? Do you want me to beg for mercy at your feet? Will that make you happy?"
She threw her hands up in exasperation. "No! Haven't you been listening?" She growled. "I want a goddamn explanation why you kissed me!"
His anger fizzled away at the ludicrousness of that statement. "You want me to explain why I kissed you? Hermione, you are literally the smartest person I know. You have to know that answer."
"You are so thick! How many times do I have to tell you that I don't know? Am I supposed to believe you snog everyone you argue with?"
"I'm thick?" Fred raked his hands through his hair. It was becoming fast apparent that he might have to spell it out. "Hermione, why do you think I kissed you?"
"I don't know! You ran away in horror, so it's obvious that you're not attracted to me." It was as if saying those words flipped a switch in her brain, and she snapped her head up to stare incredulously at him. "Oh my god."
The silence was physically palpable. It wrapped itself around them both, slowly suffocating them. They may well have drowned there, pulled into oblivion by a painful stillness. Hermione was stunned, never considering that Fred was attracted to her in any capacity. Fred was holding back tears, sure the wide-eyed expression on Hermione's face was one of dismay; he was certain she couldn't bear the thought of them together. Hermione's ire saved them, building up once again, an inferno dissolving the frozen hush.
"Then why in the bloody hell did you run away?"
"I don't know! Maybe because I realized I had a lapful of the girl I fancy and she was asking me to stop and…." He trailed off, noticing the burgeoning smile on her face. "W-why are you looking at me like that?"
She bit her lower lip in a vain attempt to quell the ever-spreading grin. "You fancy me? Present tense?"
He clapped a hand over his mouth, as though doing so could retroactively keep that particular bit of information from her.
"Fred," Hermione prompted, hoping for the entire world that she hadn't broken him. The statuesque stillness and his glassy, unfocused gaze made it look rather like his brain had spontaneously combusted.
He pulled his hand away from his lips a few inches, and opened his mouth to speak, only to snap his jaw closed and replace his palm. This happened several times, and under any other circumstances, Hermione might have thought it comical. It was rare that either of the Weasley twins were rendered totally speechless.
"Fred," she repeated, more gently, reaching out to lace the fingers of his free hand with hers. The motion caught his attention, and his wide, unblinking eyes flickered down to their joined palms. He watched for a moment as her thumb smoothed soothing circles over his own, before swallowing hard and forcing his eyes back up to meet hers.
The moment his palm was no longer pressing into his lips, a broken confession came tumbling out like an avalanche. "I - yes. I like you. Fancy you? Is there a diff-…no, I'm getting off track. I…feelings. A lot of them, I think. No, 'know.' Know, with a 'k,' you know? What am I - "
"You're a paragon of eloquence," Hermione interjected, clearly amused by the charismatic, cheeky Fred Weasley, a boy with a sharp and quick tongue, reduced to a stuttering mess.
He squeaked, the hand not holding Hermione's finding purchase against his jaw again. Fred's face turned so red it was nearly purple; the hand he'd clamped over his mouth in embarrassment was bone white in comparison.
She smiled kindly, reaching up with her free hand to peel his away from his face and twine their fingers together. As if to replace one coping mechanism with another, he began gnawing his lower lip off.
"Take a moment, gather your thoughts, and then speak," she instructed.
He nodded, his eyes sliding shut. He took a steadying deep breath, and looked her dead in the eye, his gaze far more calm and collected. "I do fancy you. Can you blame me? I mean, sure, you like books more than you like people, and you certainly can be a bit bossy and opinionated, but there is so much more to you than a swotty know-it-all."
She yanked her hands away to cross her arms. "Oh really?"
He pursed his lips, mirroring her posture. "Yes, really. You're tremendously clever, and impossibly talented. You're also brave to the point of insanity, and loyal to a fault. You're cunning and confident, and I'm told you throw one hell of a punch." He cleared his throat. "You're also really quite beautiful."
She finally reddened as well, unused to such praise, a small smile gracing her features. "You really think so?"
He nodded. "I do." He worried his lip. "Do you…"
"Yes." There was no hesitation. "Can you blame me," she parroted teasingly.
"Well, I'm certainly not the first person I would have guessed you had a thing for," he answered honestly.
"Why? Because you are a callous prankster with no regard for the rules?"
He smirked. "Are you going to tell me there is so much more to me than that?"
She shrugged. "I wasn't going to stoke your ego, but it is true. You are a natural-born comedian, but you're far more intelligent than anyone gives you credit for, on par with my own intellect. You're incredibly compassionate to the people you care about, and far more sensitive than you let on. You're also a force to be reckoned with when someone crosses you. I hear tell you also throw one hell of a punch." She leaned in conspiratorially. "You're also quite handsome."
He winked. "Glad you finally noticed."
She rolled her eyes. "You're also an arrogant prat."
"An arrogant prat that you fancy," he sang.
She smiled long-sufferingly. "Yes I do, Godric help me." There was a beat, and the smile slid off of her face in time with her sliding into a kitchen chair.
"Fred, where do we go from here?"
His expression twisted into a question mark. "What do you mean," he asked, sitting across from her.
She sighed, the air catching in her throat and coming out like a growl. "Fred, we've just admitted that we like each other. Most people don't just confess something like that and then go on with their lives like nothing's happened." She was nervously toying with her hair.
"Oh." Fred had been so caught up in the moment that he hadn't even considered the consequences of such a confession.
"Well?"
"Hermione, I need you to understand that I meant every word I said, but I never planned on telling you that."
A stray curl threatened to cut off the blood flow to her index finger. "You didn't?"
"No. After the fiasco that was our first kiss, I'd resigned myself to barely tolerating each other."
The finger in her hair froze, and her bright eyes bored into Fred's. "So you regret the kiss?"
His face screwed up apologetically. "In a way, yes. If I hadn't impulsively kissed you, things would have turned out much differently. Much…easier."
Her brow ticked up.
Fred smiled like he was reminiscing on an impossible future as though it was the distant past. "I had planned to spend this summer and the coming school year charming the pants off of you."
She grinned despite herself. "You were going to flirt with me?"
He was dead serious. "No. I was going to charm your pants off. I had plans to bring you a cup of that tea you like every morning. I was going to find a way to walk you to at least one class everyday. I would have asked you to tutor me, because it would be an excuse to be alone with you, and would show you I was serious about school too. I would have given you a simple, but surprisingly thoughtful gift on your birthday, and again at Christmas. I fully intended to trap you under the mistletoe and kiss you, even if it was only on the cheek, and beg you for a New Year's kiss. I would have bashfully asked you to dinner on Valentine's Day, and sent you a bunch of pink roses because those are your favorite. And then, sometime during the summer between your fourth and fifth year, I'd grow a pair, confess my feelings and ask you out properly."
"And you can't just do that now?"
He chuckled bitterly. "No. I'm cavalier in a lot of things, but relationships are not one of them. If this whole disaster has taught me anything, it's that I'm not ready for a relationship. I'm still immature and selfish, and I've a lot of growing up to do. I don't want you to get hurt."
Hermione's head dropped, and despite the curtain of hair in her face, Fred could see the tears gathering.
"I see," she murmured, her voice already thick. She stood. "I'll just go."
He was on his feet in an instant, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. "Hermione, I'm not saying no. I'm just saying not yet." She stopped walking, and Fred exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I just need time. That's all I ask. Just give me time to get my head on straight."
He couldn't see the grin on her face, but he felt it in the way her hand relaxed in his grasp. "Will you charm my pants off in the meantime?"
He gently tugged her arm to spin her around. "I'd travel back in time, battle the Knights of the Round Table, hex Merlin's saggy balls off, and steal his grimoire if you asked me to."
Her eyes grew rounder than the mythical table. "I was going to let you stick to your original plan, but if you're offering…"
He couldn't help but laugh, and Hermione found that merry sound infectious; in seconds, she was giggling like a hyena along with him.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm glad we got this sorted." She thrust a hand forward. "Still friends?"
Fred rolled his eyes at her formality. "Get over here," he teased, pulling her into a tight hug. "Of course we are. For now."
The embrace lasted far longer than was normal for any friends, no matter how close, but neither person said a word. They were too busy memorizing the feel of the other's touch.
A/N: Again, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't really that great either, but I hope you can forgive me and will come back for the next installment, which is loads better and a lot more fun to read.