"I'll meet up with you later, I just have some things to do," Hermione said vaguely.
"But I thought-" Ron started. Their footsteps ground to a stop as Hermione took a step away from them.
"It's personal," she insisted. "Er, you know. Girl stuff."
"Are you-"
"Yes, I'll be fine, Harry," Hermione said, exasperation more than evident. "Save a seat for me?"
"We will," Harry said. Ron and he left, grumbling about what she might be up to. Fred chuckled from where he lurked around a corner, waiting for Hermione.
"Girl stuff?" He called, crossing his arms over his chest. "Very subtle."
"It's all that gets through their thick skulls," Hermione rolled her eyes. Fred swallowed, tempted to tell her just how thick his brother's really was. Instead he offered her another jacket and tugged her toward the small inn Hogwarts students weren't allowed to go to. He'd booked a room though, and it was no one's business who went in there with him. He looked down at Hermione, bundled up so that her form was entirely marshmallow-esque. She puffed a breath out of her perfect lips, "Get on with it."
Fred glanced around the empty alley before tapping her over the head with his wand. Her curly brown hair straightened and lightened until it was the color of molten honey. A wave of his wand made her eyes blue, another gave her freckles, another changed the slope of her nose, the shape of her face. It was all illusion, proved when he touched her cheek and it was full as ever. It looked like he wasn't even touching her.
"I'm sorry," Fred muttered. He had insisted. It was better he was seen with some random girl than with her. The Death Eaters couldn't track No One.
"Let's go," Hermione hummed, taking his hand and pulling him toward the inn. Her voice was her own. Fred chuckled at her eagerness and pulled back. She gave him an innocent smile, "It's chilly."
"Allow me to make you warmer," Fred murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She led the way up the steps to the inn's little wooden porch.
"Why should I?" Hermione mused. Fred rolled his eyes and yanked open the door to the inn. He pulled her down one of the hallways and retrieved his key. He'd managed to book one of the few rooms on the first floor.
"Because I'm hopelessly in love with you," Fred muttered as he unlocked the room and opened this door for her as well. He closed it behind them and locked it with Muggle and magical means. Hermione was peeling off her clothes layer by layer. Fred did the same, removing gloves and scarves and shirts until he was in nothing but his jeans and his underwear.
Hermione sat on the bed, crossing her legs. She was in jeans as well, but she'd kept a plain white tee on. Fred undid all the charms to alter her appearance and set his wand on the beside table. He sat beside her, taking her hands in his and rubbing them together.
"You're freezing," he chuckled. She gave a half-hearted smile and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "What is it?"
"What did you send Ron?" She asked quietly.
"Advice about this girl he's into," Fred brought her hands to his mouth and blew on them. Her face pulled into a frown and her eyes opened again. "What?"
"He's been . . . I don't know, weird lately," Hermione sighed. "I thought it was Quidditch again, but maybe it's the Slug Club as well."
"It isn't your fault you're more intelligent," Fred brought her hands to his mouth again, kissing them softly.
"I miss you," murmured Hermione.
"I do too," Fred leaned forward to kiss her frozen cheek. "Now, you have work to do to keep me from losing my mind completely."
She practiced with her Patronus messages until he was satisfied he could at least feel what she was trying to convey, if not hear it word for word.
"You're brilliant," Fred nuzzled her neck from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Took me twice as long to get this far."
"You weren't properly motivated," Hermione pushed back against him, arcing her back as he nipped at her ear.
"And you are?"
"I have to keep you sane somehow," she said under her breath. Fred pulled away from her. This comment was not light-hearted as his had been. She was trying to solve him like a puzzle.
"George talked to you," he said. Not an accusation or a question. Just a fact that needed explanation. Hermione twisted to face him.
"He worries about you," Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. "It is a little sad though, that you can't function without me. I do just fine on my own."
"Cocky witch," Fred pulled her toward him sharply. "You couldn't hope for a more functional man."
"Is this the part where you get me pregnant to prove it? Because I found a book in the Restricted Section that says all the food at Hogwarts is laced with a magical contraceptive," Hermione raised her eyebrows. Fred tried to push the image of her carrying their child out of his head. He stared at her blankly for a long moment.
"I love you," he said. He could see her snapping at him about swollen ankles, painting a nursery, insisting she could do something she shouldn't. He brushed his nose against hers, taking a deep breath. "I really do."
"I love you, too, Fred," she said softly, pushing onto her toes to kiss him. For a long moment they stayed like that, still and peaceful. Hermione's mouth moved against his lazily, parting slowly. He had all the time in the world, and so did she. He loved her and she loved him and he didn't think much else mattered.
"I think we ought to wait a few years before you bring up children again," Fred whispered against her.
"At least two," she agreed. Fred frowned down at her. He didn't know if she meant two years or two kids, but he was going to pretend she meant two years regardless. They were going to have more than just two kids. They could have two non-accidental kids, but there would be more. Otherwise his brothers would never let him live it down. His mother would flay him living.
"You aren't having kids at bloody nineteen," he said. "I want to enjoy you for a while before I let someone else into your life. I'll lock you in the basement if I have to."
"Do you want to tie me up?" Hermione asked, her voice becoming lower. Fred's pulse pounded as the hand not twisting through his hair trailed down his chest.
"Do you want me to?" Fred breathed. He kissed her cheeks and her forehead, "Do you trust me?"
"I love you," Hermione grinned.
"You took the red Daydream," Fred grinned back. Hermione gave a coy smile. He bit her lip gently, hands slipping down to her ass to pull her closer again.
Hermione pushed him onto the bed. He tugged her with, yanking at her shirt until it joined her other garments.
He groaned when he saw her bra. Nude lace that allowed him a near perfect view of her breasts. His gift. She kissed him again, straddling him. He twisted them so she lay beneath him, letting her crawl further onto the bed. He followed, kissing her jaw and her neck.
"Bite me," she moaned, tugging at his hair again.
"Where?" Fred leaned back to survey her, wondering just what he'd done to her in that Daydream.
"Everywhere."
Fred was not fool enough to deny her.
~m~
"Even with magic, hickeys are hard to hide, love," Fred teased, kissing an angry red mark on her bare shoulder. Then its sister near her collarbone. Up her neck to her untouched jaw, then her swollen lips.
"I have three scarves," she pointed out, then she dragged her tongue over his teeth. He pushed her back into the mattress, slid his knees between hers again.
"Was that a challenge?" He purred, kissing her lightly marked neck.
"I have to get back," Hermione said, angling her neck so he had better access. "And you aren't ready to go again."
"Try me," Fred winked. Hermione rolled her eyes. He nudged at her nether regions with his fingers.
"Fred," she groaned. "I need to get back."
"What are you going to tell Harry and Ron when after an hour and a half of girl stuff you return empty handed with a marked neck?" Fred mused. "Attacked by an owl? Or a niffler?"
"Nifflers don't give witches hickeys; they take their earrings and disappear," Hermione snorted. Fred grinned and kissed her again, idly moving his fingers against her. She bit his lip and rocked into him slightly. Fred groaned, more than ready to go again. Hermione released his mouth and shoved him gently. "Fred, I really do."
"If you insist," Fred sighed and rolled off her. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and cleaned the sheets with a mutter. Hermione slid off the bed and hunted down her underwear. Fred stared at her.
"You could at least be helpful," she grumbled, pulling on her bra.
"I excel at taking those off, not putting them on," Fred laughed as she glowered, searching for his own boxers and jeans. She marched toward him, one hand on her nearly bare hip. "I don't have your bra with me."
"You'd better give it back, it was rather expensive," Hermione warned, poking a finger into his toned chest. Fred kissed her forehead.
"So was that," he pulled at the strap of her bra and found his shirt.
"But this doesn't have support," Hermione growled, bouncing on her toes. Fred stared unabashedly at her chest. She had a point. Whatever it was she was saying. She was right. He was almost entirely sure. Hermione swatted him and went in search of her own shirt. Fred watched her for a long moment before realizing he should probably put more clothes on. It was cold outside.
"Really, though, 'Mione, what are you going to tell them?" Fred asked.
"I'm going to tell them it's none of their damn business," Hermione said under her breath, pulling a second sweater over her head. Fred picked up her knitted gloves and folded them so they were no longer inside out.
"That won't help with the Ron . . . situation."
"And why not?" Hermione asked.
"Because he feels like he's the only one who doesn't have someone to protect beyond his family," Fred said. "There's a war going on, 'Mione, and I'd bet you anything he's wondering if he's going to die before he's with a girl."
"Fred!"
"What?" He spread his hands, waving them about the room, "You think he's doing something like this behind your back? I don't know if you've noticed, but he's not exactly subtle."
"You don't have to be mean," she reprimanded softly. Fred swallowed.
"I'm being blunt. It's not the same."
"It's pretty close," Hermione tilted her head as she watched him. He closed his mouth before he could say something even more idiotic. "You want to tell him."
"I- I don't know," Fred pulled at the fingers of the gloves he held. "It might . . . what if- he wouldn't mean to- he might say something and then-"
"We can trust Ron," Hermione touched his hands lightly. She wasn't as cold as she had been. "And Harry. If you want to tell them, we should."
"We can't. Enough people know as it is. Harry is awful at Legilimens, he has a weird bond with Voldemort, what if he finds out and decides to-"
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Hermione whispered, reaching up to take his chin in her hand. He met her eyes after a long moment. "Be happy that we are together, not scared-"
"I am happy," Fred said. "I've never been this happy before. But I won't let them take this from me. I won't let them take you."
"They aren't going to-"
"You may know everything there is to know about the past," Fred touched her hand gently, shaking his head, "But no one knows the future."
"You don't know what the Death Eaters will do," Hermione said. "I'm Muggleborn, they won't care-"
"They want to kill all of you," Fred frowned. "They'll kill me for loving you."
"So we keep it a secret," Hermione said. "Every time we talk about this, we come to the same conclusion. But I know that this is killing you, Fred. Far slower than the Death Eaters will."
"What, that I can't tell every witch and wizard I pass that the Brightest Witch her age deems to spend her precious time with me for a couple of hours every few weeks?" He kissed her forehead and drew her into his chest. "It's better than nothing."
"You don't have to sell yourself short all the time," Hermione kissed his chin. "You are mildly intelligent."
~m~
Hermione twisted her hands as she waited in the Common Room. Poor Katie, everyone seemed to whisper, How dreadful.
Hermione couldn't get the sight, the sounds, of her screaming out of her head. Katie Bell, who she knew mostly in passing.
What if it had been Lavender? Albert? Tess? What if it had been Ron or Harry or George or Fred?
She ran to the lavatory and had barely slammed into a stall before she lost control of her stomach. The door slamming against its frame seemed to echo in the empty, tiled room. Hermione clutched the porcelain, trying to force herself to breathe. The boys had been worried, but they hadn't been terrified like she was.
In. Out. In. Out.
"Please, please, please," she said. She didn't know what she was begging of who, but she muttered it regardless.
"Hermione?" She flinched as the lavatory door opened. She reached back blindly for the stall door, trying to push it closed. She met resistance and then someone was pulling her hair back. "You're okay."
"I shouldn't have been there," Hermione muttered. "I wasn't any help. I didn't- I couldn't do anything."
She should've stayed with Fred a little while longer. Every time she saw him it felt like she had to chase away more shadows. She never asked about the Order. If anything important happened, he would tell her. But the nothingness and the anxiety it brought was dragging on him.
"You're seventeen, Hermione. You aren't supposed to know ancient counter curses to Dark Artifacts," Lavender said, stroking her hair gently.
Hermione said nothing. If she was going to keep Harry and Ron safe, she needed to know things not even the Death Eaters knew. She needed to be better and smarter and quicker. Because if and when they got caught, she would need to get them out of it before anyone ginger with a last name rhyming with 'easily' could be convinced to stage a rescue.
~m~
Hermione shot a glare at Harry that said she did not care for whatever had happened at Quidditch practice and went to the library in search of some quiet away from Ron. Apparently, she was partially to blame for something or other. She didn't even know what.
Things only got worse after the first game. She knew she'd seen Harry slip something in Ron's drink. He'd meant for her to think it. And somehow, despite Ron himself believing he'd drank Felix Felicis, she was the one in the wrong. Not Harry, who had thought Ron needed to think he was lucky for them to win. She was to blame.
And then Lavender. Had she not been expecting it, she would've doubled over right there. The joy on her face, the pride in what Ron had done—Hermione had had to hide that look every damn day since she'd started seeing Fred. She'd never gotten to fling herself at him for all the world to see and kiss him until the boys shouted for them to get a room already.
She went to the spot she'd always met Fred, that room with the stairs in the back. Where he'd kissed her and touched her and danced with her. She ran a hand along the wall, remembering those times when she'd been shoved against it. She came to a stop and sat at the bottom step, leaning her head against the stairwell's wall.
She practiced summoning those little birds Flitwick had them creating in charms. Happy little yellow birds that chirped like it was spring. She watched them flit around the room.
Harry came in not long after. She gestured to the birds and offered a terse smile.
"Hullo, Harry," she winced at the weakness of her voice. She didn't care. Ron could snog all the girls in the world. But why'd he have to do it so damned openly? "I was just practicing."
"Yeah," Harry winced too. Hermione knew he'd seen right through her. "They're, er, really good . . ."
He didn't know what to say. It was clear in the awkward half shuffle he made toward her. He wouldn't apologize for Ron, she knew that much. She appreciated it too.
"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations," she'd meant it to be dry but her voice cracked.
"Does he?" Harry asked, his voice a little too high-pitched. He must've seen them together then. Hermione sighed. He came and sat beside her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," Hermione wiped at her nose discreetly. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was-"
She jumped as the door burst open. She blinked at Ron's laughter, so similar to Fred's, until he came into sight, pulling Lavender after him.
"Oh," Ron said. Hermione tried not to think about the way his brother groaned the same syllable. Lavender giggled, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. She winked at Hermione conspiratorially.
"Oops," she pulled on Ron's arm but he had frozen, staring resolutely at Harry, refusing to look at Hermione beside him. Lavender backed out of the room, letting the door shut between her and Ron.
There was a long, terrible silence. Fred would've cracked a joke and been done with it, or left with a muttered apology. But Ron was not Fred.
"Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got off to!" Hermione cringed. Her birds flew straight for her and begin flying around her head as though to shield her for when Ron finally dared to look at her. She didn't know why he was acting strangely. He didn't look ready to apologize for thinking so poorly of her.
Hermione finally stood, unable to bare Harry's attempt at silent neutrality. She sent a moderately dark look at Ron and said, "You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside. She'll wonder where you've gone."
She moved stiffly for the door, wondering what she'd done to deserve everything she couldn't have thrown in her face. Didn't Ron care that they would hurt Lavender if it proved effective at hurting him? He must not have at all, and that was worse than anything he'd said to her. He simply didn't care about the consequences his actions brought. And she was sick of it, of him flaunting about while she kept everything she cared about close to heart but far from reach.
She really, really, shouldn't have, but she turned back and cried, "Oppugno!" before slipping through the door. She clenched her teeth against the sob trying to work its way out of her and went to find a new place to be alone. She could hear Ron's angry shouting a long ways off.
~m~
"I really don't mind that he's going out with Lavender," Hermione said. And she didn't. Harry made a noncommittal grunt. She supposed he was trying not to rise to Ron's defense and risk her wrath. He always did that when Ron and her fought. She also knew he didn't believe her. She touched his arm gently. They were in the library. Hermione didn't like to see Ron and Lavender together. It made missing Fred even worse. "Harry, look at me."
After a long moment of debate with himself, he did.
"I don't care what Ron does with who," Hermione said clearly. "I'd just he rather not do it in front of everyone."
"I thought . . ." Harry frowned.
"Trust me, I'm just fine on my own," Hermione winked and leaned back in her chair, just as Albert walked by from one of the stacks. Just as they'd planned. According to George, Ron thought Hermione was lonely or some such nonsense. They'd decided, along with Albert, that it couldn't hurt to show Ron she did not need his help to be satisfied in that regard.
George had vowed to keep Fred from killing Albert.
And that was how the young Ravenclaw came to drape himself over Hermione's shoulders, kiss her cheek, and say just loud enough for Harry to hear, "See you tonight."
Luckily, Harry was too busy staring at Hermione to note Albert's beet red face and hurried, awkward gait. She gave Harry an innocent smile and pulled her charms book closer to her.
"Who was that?!"
"One of the Ravenclaw boys," Hermione hummed. She turned a page. "Albert. He's a friend of one of Fred's."
"I didn't realize you even liked Fred," Harry muttered.
Hermione laughed, "He's a friend of a friend of Fred's. Fred has nothing to do with Albert as far as I know."
Harry smirked, "You didn't deny liking Fred."
Hermione huffed, "Look at you, so clever. He's a lot more tolerable away in London. And I suppose he is mildly intelligent."
~m~
Love you.
Fred sighed as the otter disappeared. After three weeks, everything was . . . not good, but not bad. Better, maybe. Definitely not worse. Hermione had perfected sending Patronus messages with only a nudge of guidance from him.
Ron was being absorbed by that Lavender Brown girl, apparently. Hermione wasn't sure why, but this meant Ron thought he was allowed to be flippant and rude with her. Fred was tempted to volunteer for Hogsmeade duty just to go and beat his ass. Hermione already had a handle on things, apparently, but it would definitely make him feel less useless. He supposed it was good he hadn't let himself. Hermione wouldn't be happy with that. She'd probably say something about testosterone and possessiveness or being a territorial mess or something.
Fred curled on his side, away from his room's window. He stared at the empty side of the bed. It had been too long since Hermione was in this bed. It'd stopped smelling of her.
Fred visited Hermione's mother weekly. Told her all the stories she wanted to hear of his adventures in entrepreneurship. Gave her slips of magical news to give context to the Muggle stories. They reassured one another over and over that she would be safe at Hogwarts, where she had been tortured, attacked, petrified, and nearly killed numerous times. Safe with Dumbledore. Safe with Harry.
Fred didn't know when he'd stopped believing it. Hearing her voice from her Patronus was barely enough to convince him she was even alive. Just like any other, he poured over the contents of the Prophet, searching for the names of those he loved while praying he wouldn't find them.
"Talk to Dumbledore," was George's only advice. "He'll let you see her."
He couldn't wait for Christmas break, that he knew. But any day before then was risking an awful lot.
Then an old, walrus-looking beast of a man waddled into the shop one Saturday.
"You wouldn't happen to be the owner of this fine establishment, now would you?" The man chortled as Fred and George mentally warred over who would have to deal with him. Fred hid his groan with a lazy smile toward the aging man. George sauntered off to help a middle aged woman who looked lost and angry about it.
"How can I help you?" He offered his hand, "Fred Weasley."
"Horace Slughorn," the man's skin was too soft. Fred shook his hand vigorously then tucked his hands behind his back. "I've heard you and your brother are remarkable potions masters."
"That greasy haired snake complimented us?" Fred asked skeptically, earning him a chuckle from the man. Slughorn picked up a Nosebleed Nougat off the shelf and held it up to the light.
"Your work speaks for itself, Mr. Weasley," the man carefully returned the product to its shelf. He gave Fred a winning smile, "Now then, a former student of mine who works at the Ministry said you had a delightful collection of Shield Accessories."
"We do indeed," Fred beamed. He glanced around the room quickly. "Are you interested in purchasing a gift for a loved one this holiday season?"
He and George had decided that, when it doubt, it was better not to imply a customer was incapable of performing a simple Shield Charm.
"Perhaps I should," Slughorn chuckled. "But I actually did not come here on matters of business."
"Oh?" Fred said mildly. Slughorn was a collector of people and influence. He lived off the goodwill of those he'd convinced owed him something. He did not want to be dragged into it. The Professor reminded him too much of Bagman already.
"I'm hosting a Yule Time Party at Hogwarts in a few days time," the wizard snapped his fingers and two periwinkle envelopes dropped into his waiting hand. He passed them to Fred. "I do hope you would honor me by attending. Harry Potter and your delightful sister will be going."
"We'll think about it," Fred promised, trying not to grin too much. As the door closed behind Slughorn, he couldn't help but think Hermione was going to be very surprised.
.o0O0o.
I've been busy doing other writing things. It's fine. Swear.
Sugarsnap26: Anyone with half a functioning brain wanted Fred and Hermione to be a thing.
Infernalbooks: Bill is smarter than the average bear.
AliciaHaryama: Big brothers are the best at being the worst.
I'm a Nerd and Proud: lol, you're proud of me. Thanks, I'll try not to rip your heart to shreds come Deathly Hallows time. How could I not have Teddy Lupin?! I'm sticking as close to canon as I can!
sdrlana21: Ron finding out is going to be a plot point.
AnotherAddicted: Thank you!
Hollowg1rl: Sometimes I feel like I write Ron dumber than he is, and sometimes I feel vindicated by the idiocy of teenaged boys I know.
