** This is a series of drabbles, ficlets and one-shots following our dear Fred and Hermione from June of 1995 (shortly before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament) to an as-of-yet undetermined point post-war.**

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A/N: There were only about five hours between me coming up with this idea and drafting it on here, so let's please be gentle, yeah?

I wasn't sure if I wanted to post this as a collection or a multi-chapter and I ultimately decided multi-chapter, purely for the sake of it being easier to add to this way.

If you're concerned about Fred dying, don't be.

Unlike my previous works, this will not have a set update schedule. That said, you can rest assured that I have a compulsive personality and barely the ghost of a social life at this point, so it will most likely be updated at least once a week. Follow if you want email notifications for that.

I'm pretty much approaching canon as a buffet from which I can pick and choose scenes (or lack thereof) to play with.

If you're still reading at this point, fabulous! Please keep your hands, arms, and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and enjoy the ride.

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8 June 1995

To say that Fred Weasley was perplexed would be a gross understatement.

He had just left potions, the only NEWT-level class that he didn't have with his twin, and he was clutching a piece of parchment like a drowning man might clutch a life-preserver, completely and utterly transfixed. At the top of that parchment were four words, scrawled in his own messy handwriting: leather, lavender, rain and coffee.

Engrossed as he was, he didn't notice when his girlfriend sidled up beside him in the corridor.

"Hey you! Katie told me it was Amorentia day in potions," Angie said, pushing onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek with a smile.

"Uh, yeah," Fred said awkwardly, hastily making to tuck the parchment into his bag and out of her sight.

"Is that what it smelled like for you?" she asked excitedly, eyes bright and voice teasing as she spotted the paper. "Well, what are you waiting for? Give it here!"

Fred made to step back, but Angie was too fast, snatching the page from his grip before he even fully realized she was lunging for it. It was like watching a bludger on a collision course.

"Ang, wait – " he said hurriedly, trying to grab it back, but it was too late.

She stepped away, laughing, and turned a bit so it was out of his reach. He watched her profile in the dimly lit dungeons helplessly as the easy smile melted away from her face like an ice-cream cone on the pavement in July. Her gaze reached the bottom of the list and shifted back to the top, reading through one more time.

"It doesn't mean anything," Fred said quietly, cringing and desperately wishing it were possible to spontaneously combust. Guilt wasn't something he succumbed to often, pranking would be far less fun if it were, but in that moment he felt it in spades. Angie tipped her head and gave him a sad, knowing smile, turning and handing the parchment back to him.

"Fred, I don't drink coffee, and I'm allergic to lavender. It makes me break out in hives."

"Still," he said, reaching for her hand with his empty one. She let him take it, but left her grip slack. "We have loads of fun together, and you know you'd be lying if you said I wasn't the best snog you've ever had."

Angelina gave a half-hearted laugh and looked up at him, troubled expression pulling the corners of her mouth down and creating a small crease between her brows. "I'm going to go back to the common room for a bit. I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Angie, I'm really sorry," Fred tried to apologize, but she was already backing away and shaking her head at him.

"Please don't apologize, really. It's not like you've any say in the matter. I'll see you later Fred."

Deflated, Fred stuffed the incriminating piece of parchment in his bag none too gently and made for the stairs, eventually stopping in an empty corridor beside an open window and leaning against the wall, feeling about as lowly as a flobberworm.

Had he pictured he and Angelina staying together forever? No. What had started out as a friendly date to the ball in December had turned into something of a fling, and a fun one at that. She was always willing to discuss quidditch, or listen to him and George debate the merits of dung bombs versus stink pellets, and she never told him off for getting in trouble or pranking their housemates. He had a great time with Angie. He liked Angie.

And he felt terrible that, however inadvertently, he'd hurt her.

"Hey Fred, is everything okay?"

He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, to see that Hermione had appeared in front of him. Her hair was down, dark caramel in the sunlight, and she, like many of them outside of class time, had foregone the heavy school robes for a lighter grey cardigan that hugged her shoulders.

"Oh, hey Hermione. Yeah, just a long day."

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked, shifting the massive stack of books she was carrying from one hip to the other.

"Not particularly," he replied truthfully. "Need a hand with those?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'm meeting Padma at the library to compare arithmancy notes." She busied herself with one-handedly rearranging her bag on her shoulder before glancing past him. "Oh, there she is now. I'd better go. I hope your day gets better!"

She offered a friendly smile and brushed past both him and the open window.

At that precise moment, whether it was fate or karma or pure dumb luck, a warm spring breeze gusted down the passageway, tousling the ends of her curls and smacking him square in the face with the faint, yet undeniable, scent of lavender.

"Oh," Fred said lamely, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as he watched her back get further and further away. She stopped in front of Padma and they began passing books and pages of notes back and forth, utterly oblivious to the existential crisis unfolding all of thirty feet away from them.

"There you are Forge," George exclaimed, turning the corner and slinging an arm around his twin's shoulder. When he didn't respond, George leaned forward curiously and took in the gob-smacked expression on Fred's face with unconcealed curiosity. "I passed Angie in the hall, who seemed none too pleased about something by the by, and you look like you've been confunded. Everything okay?" When he still didn't say anything, George inquisitively traced his gaze down the corridor. "Why are we staring at Hermione?"

Fred swallowed hard and watched as the witch in question disappeared into the library and out of sight.

"Gred, I think I'm in trouble."

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A/N: I am aware neither of the twins took NEWT level potions. It is simply advantageous to my plot if that weren't the case.