Indulgence.
Hermione first associated this word with her mother's rare, but all-consuming midnight dessert binges. Though "health nut" Monica Granger had the whole town convinced that she hadn't touched a single sugary, carb-filled morsel in years, her secret trips to the kitchen could be likened to a drowning person finally coming up for air. Watching her mother find satisfaction in a pecan pie was unnerving, yet always made her curious about what it felt like to completely give in to a repressed desire. Desserts were not Hermione's "forbidden fruit" but as she grew older, she began to realize what her own temptation was. As much as she swore to herself that she wouldn't submit, she was well aware that her unraveling had already begun.
Moments ago, something brushed her cheek, as light as a butterfly's wing. The sensation came from a tiny piece of paper swirling through the air, joined by several others like it. The pieces began to form intricate patterns, weaving in and out, reminding her of the synchronized swimmers she had seen on TV years ago. After a few moments of this performance, they spiraled downwards until they reached her bed. They assembled themselves and bonded together, leaving no discernable lines showing that they were once apart - however there was a message.
If only you knew just how beautiful you look today…
Hermione's heart began to race. "He's here? At the Burrow?"
Ever since she was thirteen, she had been receiving these cryptic messages sent from an unknown sender. Her very first note had come directly after she had spent time in the infirmary, wishing her a fast recovery. Over time, they increased in frequency, and in romantic nature. It would have been simple to trace the notes using magic, but this was the mystery she didn't need to solve, for fear that the sender would stop after being revealed. Instead, she kept these seemingly harmless messages to herself, enjoying them in private.
Hermione swore under her breath, realizing that if the sender grew bold enough to actually reveal himself this week, she'd have no choice but to shut down the notes along with the person behind them. A relationship during the increasingly dark times of their world was simply not a practical choice in her mind.
The list of "suspects" had just been narrowed down to the Weasley siblings and Harry. Hermione's stomach twisted at the thought of it being Harry as he was basically a brother to her. She knew with Ron they had a complicated relationship mixed with friendship, disdain, and admittedly, attraction. But the bold words of the mysterious note-sender seemed too out of character for him. As for the rest of his brothers, she couldn't see them thinking of her as anything else besides an adopted sister. However, if she was being honest with herself, the thought of a certain Weasley brother being at the other end of the notes made her cheeks flush. He was, after all, the one who occupied her mind during the day, and her fantasies late into the night.
Hermione grasped the note desperately but quickly regretted the decision. Like the many messages she had received from him over time, the paper grew hot, singeing the tips of her fingers and turning a deep, charcoal grey. After only a few seconds, the note had completely disintegrated, leaving behind a small pile of ashes. She grumbled at the mess.
"Hermione, dinner is ready," a voice called out.
"Coming!"
The Weasley's dining room buzzed with action. Molly had invited Hermione and Harry to stay during Easter holidays, extending the invitation also to each grown sibling, schedules allowing. Tonight welcomed a crowded table full of lively individuals observed by a now tense Hermione. Molly quietly reprimanded Ginny for staring daggers through Fleur. Ron tried having a conversation with Harry on Quidditch but the latter's attention was also on Ginny, for different reasons. The twins had been urging Percy to look under the table, obviously setting up some type of prank. Percy rolled his eyes, telling them to grow up. Bill, Charlie and Fleur engaged in their own conversation, too hushed to hear from where she sat. The only person missing was Arthur.
"Ah, Molly! Did you see this?" Arthur announced, carrying a large newspaper titled Muggles on the Move. "A newspaper about muggle happenings!"
"Arthur Weasley, we're about to eat. Put that away!" Molly exclaimed.
Arthur took a seat at the table, oblivious as to what she just said. The front cover of the newspaper featured a picture of a giant, inflatable rubber duck. "Apparently in the states, there's a rubber duck festival. It says, 'Bellaire, Michigan will once again host its annual rubber duck festival this summer. Over a thousand tiny ducks will be released into the river for a race. This year, the town will also welcome the arrival of the festival's largest inflatable duck..." he paused, brow furrowing. "Named Arthur Weasley?"
Quacking noises sounded from the picture while the Weasley family burst into a mix of laughter and scoffs. The edges of the paper then darkened like they had been touched by a candle flame. Only moments passed before the whole newspaper grew charred and crumbled in his fingers. The disappointed Arthur, getting past his initial shock, looked up and asked, "Well, but is there really a rubber duck festival?"
Hermione's eyes widened and darted to the twins. Disintegrating paper. They laughed, exchanging pats on the back until Fred noticed her staring at them intensely. He quickly became subdued and avoided her gaze. A slight blush grew on his cheeks.
Fred. No, it surely couldn't be Fred. She thought her brain was trying to solve the mystery by creating false "signs." But how much more evidence did she need after seeing that?
The family continued with their dinner, unfazed by Fred and George's antics. Hermione contributed to the conversations wherever her input made sense, but her mind was worlds away. As she finished the remaining vegetables on her plate, she felt the urge to test him. She lowered her fork and glanced over to Fred, only to discover that he was already looking in her direction. Her breath hitched for a moment, startled, but this time he held her gaze and gave a warm smile.
"Fred?" she mouthed silently at him, as if to confirm he understood what was happening between the two.
He subtly nodded.
Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably. Hermione broke eye contact and looked down at her plate, trying desperately to hide a grin.
Harry became aware of her unusual expression and whispered, "Hermione, what's on your mind?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing, Harry."
Hours later, everyone trickled off to their bedrooms. Hermione had announced to "no one in particular" that she was staying up to read in the living room. Unsurprisingly, he took the bait and joined her.
"Do you know anything about muggle, rubber duck festivals? I heard they are real," a deep voice called out from the dark.
Hermione chose to jump straight into the subject that had been on her mind for several years now.
"No, but I would like to know more about those notes" she stated, carefully putting her bookmark inside her book.
She stood to meet the gaze of her tall, redhead counterpart.
"Well, Granger, I have to say it took you long enough to discover that it was me. If you were a detective on a murder case, the killer would've been free for years!"
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.
"Alright, alright. Sit down."
The pair sat together on the couch.
"You see, George and I created the idea of disappearing paper ages ago. It's brilliant for when you need to get a message to someone but you can't go into their room."
"Hence the tiny pieces," she added.
"Exactly. Since they're designed to self-destruct after a few touching them, I figured it was a perfect way to keep my notes to you a secret."
"Albeit, a messy way," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Fred chuckled.
"Is that all you want to know?" He teased.
"Absolutely not!"
"Well then, what questions do you have for me, detective Granger?"
"I…" Hermione began but then found herself at a loss for words. Fred's charming gaze was distracting, and it still hadn't quite sunk in that he was the sender of the notes that had filled her with excitement for years. There had to be a catch and she made sure to keep her guard up.
She cleared her throat. "Fred, I would hope this isn't some kind of joke between you and George. If so, this isn't funny."
Fred shook his head and lowered his voice. A serious expression took over his face, replacing the tiny smirk leftover from his detective question.
"No, it's not, Hermione. To be honest, I forgot that we planted that newspaper for him to find. It's been there a while," he admitted, running his hands through his hair. "I planned to write you a note but not reveal everything. After the newspaper incident…which by the way was still hilarious…I knew you had me figured out."
The two slowly sat, letting a moment of silence pass between them as Hermione registered his words, and thought back to all of the times she had received a note. Fred studied her expression as she stared into the nearby fireplace. The tiny crackling noises from the logs were the only sounds in the room until she finally found the courage to speak.
"Those notes have always meant so much to me. It always made my day to know that someone out there saw me for more than just uptight, studious Hermione Granger," she stated. Her smile slowly dropped into a frown of frustration. "But it certainly wasn't clear that it was you!"
"Why is that?" Fred asked, his smirk having reappeared.
"Well first, after the Yule ball I received a letter the next day saying that you heard about me having a bad time and wished you would've taken me, instead."
Fred nodded. "You looked brilliant, by the way."
Hermione dodged the compliment. "Then why did you ask Angelina?"
"It was bloody obvious how Ron felt about you, Hermione. How was I to know that 'Great Aunt Tessie' would go with someone else? Angelina fancied me, so I asked her to make things easier."
The thought that she could've gone with Fred made her heart ache, however she continued to press him. "What about all the girls you've been with since then? It's obvious you and George play a strong game."
He shrugged. "It's easier to charm many random ladies than it is to say these things to the one that matters."
The one that matters. She hoped she wasn't misinterpreting what he was saying. The room was growing increasingly warmer than before. While she wanted to blame the fireplace, she knew the real reason.
"Since when did I start to matter to you?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding genuinely interested and less defensive. "I thought I'd always be the adopted Weasley sister."
Fred's eyes reflective. "You know, I never thought that someone who often calls George and I out on our pranks could ever be attractive, especially someone who's a prefect. But doing that takes boldness, and that's just one thing I admire about you."
Hermione's heart raced as she realized her defenses were quickly lowering.
"And tonight, when you said I was beautiful," she said in a whisper. "You truly mean that?"
Fred moved closer to Hermione until their knees touched. She didn't flinch or pull away.
"I meant that and every word I've ever written to you," Fred stated quietly. He covered her hand with his and gave her a gentle squeeze. "I just never thought I could let you know it was me behind those notes."
With that statement, every protective thought of "it couldn't be Fred" and "it's a joke" crumbled like the ashes of each letter he had written her, giving way to new desires. The desire to be his was strong, and the urge to experience her own idea of indulgence was taking over her body.
"Are you disappointed it's me, and not someone else?" He asked. "I understand if that's the case-"
Hermione interrupted, closing the gap between them, placing her lips on his. Fred eagerly received her kiss, sliding his hand into her thick brown locks of hair. She didn't realize how much she needed this. One kiss turned into several before Hermione finally pulled away to catch a breath.
As her eyes met his, she felt a twinge of guilt tug at her heart. Now's the worst time for love. What if something happens and then it's just...taken away?
Hermione stood quickly.
"Oy, wait!" Fred leaped up as well.
"Fred, I'm sorry, it's just…" she trailed off, walking closer to the fire so as to not look at him.
"It's Ron, isn't it?"
"No, not him."
She loved Ron, but he could never compete with her feelings for Fred.
"I'm just scared to start anything right now."
Fred stayed behind by the couch to give her space, but challenged her thoughts. "From the way you kissed me, it sounds like something "started" a while ago for both of us."
"You know what I mean. It's irresponsible to do this when we both know how dark our world has gotten. A war is bound to happen soon."
"Sure, but dark times can also bring people together. Why do you think it was so important for mum to have everyone here this week? She knows what might happen in the future."
Hermione thought back to the crowded dinner table. Picturing a permanently empty seat was hard enough for Hermione to imagine. She couldn't begin to see it from Mrs. Weasley's eyes.
"Being with those you care about makes the darkness just a bit more bearable, you know?" Fred continued. "It's not a crime to seek some…comfort."
Though she hadn't turned around to face him, she could hear his steps approaching her. Her breath hitched as she felt him now standing directly behind her. She swallowed hard.
"But Fred, I can't promise any kind of future with you," Hermione protested. "Not when I don't even know what tomorrow will look like."
Her tall counterpart placed one hand on her shoulder and brought the other up to brush strands of hair away from her ear. He whispered closely, "Then don't promise me your future. Just promise me your 'right now.' What do you think, Hermione?"
She breathed in heavily, knowing just one word could either make or break their moment.
"Alright Fred," she whispered. "I promise you my now."
Immediate pleasure swept over her when his lips found her neck, kissing down to her shoulder where he bit her gently. His hands grasped her hips and he pulled her close against his body. Hermione let a soft moan slip from her lips.
She interlaced her fingers with his and slid them upwards along her stomach, then crossed their arms to form a tight embrace. Every punctuated kiss along her skin gave her shivers down her spine that made her want to lean into him. But to truly indulge in the moment, she knew she needed more.
She uncrossed their arms but didn't let go of his fingers. Instead, she guided his hands upwards to meet the underneath of her breasts. He paused his kisses involuntarily when he gasped. Hermione knew he couldn't see her smirk, but delighted in his reaction. She teased him by running his fingers along the underwire of her bra until finally giving him satisfaction and moving his hands upwards. His long, slender fingers grasped her breasts and he sighed.
"Well Granger, I didn't know you had this side to you," he whispered, his voice deep and slightly winded.
He had no idea that her fantasies often involved the two of them doing more than just this.
Slowly, he moved his fingers to tease at her nipples which were beginning to poke through her bra and the loose fabric of her shirt. She felt her legs squeeze together to relieve the ache that was forming between them. Suddenly, she spun around to face him, determined to give a clever answer to his last statement. But as she opened her mouth, she realized that no words were able to convey what her actions could say more clearly. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Hermione pulled him down to meet her lips, pressing hard. Fred responded in kind by hugging her waist, and guiding them back to the couch.
Fred sat first. Hermione, feeling bold, made direct eye contact with him as she placed one knee on either side of him, slowly straddling his lap. His eyes widened with shock. Before he could say anything, she attacked his neck with warm, fast kisses. Fred groaned, grabbing her hips firmly. She wanted more than anything to grind against him when a distinct noise brought her attention back to her surroundings.
Footsteps on the stairs.
The two quickly broke apart and slid to the opposite ends of the couch. Hermione quietly thanked the noisy, worn wooden stairs of the Burrow for giving them a heads up.
"Oy, what are you still doing up, Hermione?" Ron asked.
She turned to her side to see the couch was empty. Fred had of course used his apparating abilities to make a swift departure before Ron could reach them.
"Oh, I must have fallen asleep reading."
Hermione excused herself to her room, replaying the mesmerizing events of the past hour in her mind. She grinned to herself.
I'll never judge my mother again for her midnight dessert indulgences.
End of Chapter 1
