Hermione was hiding.
She was at the Burrow for Easter hols, after coming back with Ginny to spend some time with the Weasleys and Harry. It was only a few days — a long weekend, really — and then she would be heading back to Hogwarts for the final grind as she prepared to take her N.E.W.T.s. She had hoped her time at the Burrow would be different — that what had happened over Christmas break had been an aberration. That things would have returned to normal.
But no. Fred was still at it.
Hermione sighed and started flipping backwards to the beginning of the chapter she'd just finished. She hadn't taken in anything she had read for the past few pages at least.
She supposed she could concede – if she must – that it was nice to see Fred back in top form, or rather top physical form. As it happened, he had only been out of St. Mungos for a week when Hermione had to go back to school for what McGonagall was calling her 'eighth year,' despite it being only the seventh year of her education — a misnomer that irked Hermione every time she heard it. So the first time she had an opportunity to spend any significant time with Fred post-Battle had been Christmas break. She had been nervously anticipating seeing him when she and Ginny had left Hogwarts in December, hoping to spend time with him and catch up.
Secretly hoping to see where things might lead, now that the war was behind them all.
Her expectations and hopes had been high as she entered the Burrow. And then they were quickly dashed in the face of the reality of the recuperated Fred Weasley.
Fred, forever engaging and charming, was now using his considerable charisma to try to shag any and every witch he could. Which was fine, she supposed. She could begrudgingly concede that it was his right to do whatever he chose. For her, the bigger problem was his insistence on telling everyone every detail about it. Literally, everyone. Constantly. For the entire two weeks of the Christmas break, if Fred was in the Burrow, he was smirking, laughing and banging on — and bloody on — about his many, many conquests. Not that his approximation of a smile ever met his eyes — no matter how much he laughed while detailing his many trysts.
If Molly was in the room, he would mercifully switch his language choices to a more vague innuendo, but it wasn't so vague as to obscure his meaning. What he was getting at was always obvious. And it was painfully clear to Hermione that since she had last seen Fred, that what he had been getting in was the knickers of half the witches in Britain.
Any effort to get Fred to switch topics had failed — and Hermione wasn't the only one trying. George tried to move him along to other topics. Ginny kept trying to discuss Quidditch. It was all to no avail. Only Ron seemed to be truly interested in his older brother's exploits. Hermione had even faked a moral objection to a planned new product to see if that would get him to move on from waxing poetically about the apparently spectacular arse on a conquest he had back in bloody September. But that had only worked for about fifteen minutes, after which he was angry with her and describing to Harry and Ron all of the lurid details about whom he had been shagging during the month of October.
Hermione found the whole thing nauseating. She had admired Fred from afar for years. When she was alone on her cot in that bloody tent during their time on the run — before she fell into her inevitably fitful sleep — she would reminisce about the dance she had with Fred at the wedding, before the Ministry fell and their world was upended. When he almost died in the battle she had been devastated — and acting solely on blind instinct — until he breathed again. Then she had been so worried about his recovery. She'd barely got to spend time with him at all before she had to leave for her last year at Hogwarts and by the time she saw him again, he had turned into a complete cad.
So to put it briefly, Christmas had been a disappointment. But a small part of her hoped that it was only a phase and it would be over by the time the Easter break rolled around.
Fred was no different at Easter.
He just had new stories to regale Harry and Ron with, while Ginny and George rolled their eyes and Hermione wanted to scream, and instead settled for biting her tongue. After the first evening with the family, she made herself scarce. Once again using her upcoming N.E.W.T.s as cover, telling everyone she had some reading to do before disappearing to a different part of the house. Ginny side-eyed her, but said nothing.
However, Ginny was only able to hold her tongue for so long and a few hours later she located Hermione in the sitting room, her hands on her hips, pleading with her to rejoin the group. "Come on, Mione! We've hardly seen you all day. You can't hide from us forever."
"Fine." Hermione snapped her book shut, irritated at both the interruption and what she knew was coming. More stories about Fred shagging half of Diagon Alley, told by the man himself. "But I'm not happy about this. I really don't want to be subjected to another twenty minute play-by-play of Fred's efforts to drag his dick through every willing woman he comes across."
Ginny snorted in laughter before clapping her hand over her mouth, her wide eyes fixed on a point behind Hermione.
Oh fuck.
Hermione felt her cheeks flame as she turned to see Fred looming over the back of her seat, his expression not exactly angry, per se, but clearly displeased.
"You have a problem with my personal life, Granger?"
Hermione sighed and stood up, putting her book down on the couch as she did. Ginny left the room with haste, smirking. Probably off to tell George what had just happened, Hermione thought irritably.
"Well, as a matter of fact Weasley, I think it's a shite way to talk about witches. They don't seem to be anything more than an object that you use to get off, which is gross."
"I — I'm a generous man, Mione. Those witches are well satisfied."
"And then they are the subject of your endless discussion about their attributes and proclivities. Did they know they signed up for that? Would it satisfy them to know how you smirk when you describe their sexual performance to anyone forced to listen?"
Fred looked taken aback by her statement. "You don't even know them!"
"Well, as it happens, I think that women shouldn't be objectified even when I don't know them."
Fred looked at her, aghast.
"Also, I find your sheer repetition to be tedious. Excuse me." She picked up her book and left, going upstairs to the room she shared with Ginny. She really didn't want to talk to any of the others now.
Hermione's confrontation with Fred had left her too unsettled to read, so she put down her books and tried to sleep instead. Ongoing issues with insomnia and nightmares — thanks ever so much, Bellatrix — meant she was effectively always tired enough for a nap, even if she rarely actually took one. She hoped a few hours of rest would help her regain a sense of equilibrium.
Some time later, a knock on the door woke her up. She wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping — it could have been three minutes or three hours. She sat up in the darkness, dazed. "Come in," she croaked. The door opened and she flinched at the light coming in from the hallway, reflexively groping beside herself trying to find her wand.
"Oh shit, Granger! Were you sleeping? I'm sorry — I can come back later." Fred had already started retreating when Hermione called him back.
"It's fine. I'm awake now anyway. What's up?" she asked, pulling herself up so she was seated on the bed, still blinking.
"I want to apologise."
"You haven't wronged me, Fred," she said, both meaning it and leaving open the implication that he'd wronged others.
"I get that. But I've greatly disappointed you and for that I'm sorry. I didn't consider — I didn't think about what you said. About how I was being disrespectful. And I shouldn't have been so thoughtless. I will keep my mouth shut in the future."
She raised an eyebrow at him. It was better than nothing. If he chose to continue on his licentious path at least she wouldn't have to hear so much about it. A small victory. "If that's the best you can do, consider the matter closed."
Fred looked at her for a moment before speaking, assessing. "You're still angry with me. Why?"
"I don't really think it's my place to approve or disapprove of what you do with your life, Fred. But I can't fake enthusiasm I don't have."
"Why is my dating a problem for you, Granger?"
"No earthly idea. But it might have something to do with the fact that you don't seem particularly happy. Not even when you are faking a smirk as you brag about your seemingly endless conquests."
He flinched before pulling himself up to his full height, looking down at her incredulously. "Who said I'm faking it? I've been having fun, Hermione. And there's nothing wrong with that."
"Okay. Maybe I can't tell what it looks like when you smile from actual happiness anymore. Because it never used to look like whatever rictus I've seen from your face the times I have seen you in person since I've returned to school. But I don't think I'm wrong."
"Well, I nearly died, Hermione. That can change a person."
"Oh? Can it? I hadn't realised." She stood up so she could properly yell at him, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. "Do you think that my convalescence at Shell Cottage was a holiday from the war? I was down for nearly as long as you, without the luxury of having an actual hospital to take care of me. And that was the second time I nearly died because a Death Eater cursed me. And the third time I nearly died due to Voldemort related injuries, counting the bloody basilisk. And I will note that I'm not fucking my way through Hogwarts so I don't have to acknowledge my trauma."
"You don't know anything about what I went through, Granger," he said through gritted teeth.
"Yep. No comparable experiences for me at all. I was, as I just reiterated, merely the survivor of multiple attempts on my life, several of which occurred as I was on the run for nine months whilst being targeted for genocide. Sorry about your wall."
Fred grabbed her shoulders. "I was dead, Hermione! Not almost dead. Dead. Until you fucking blew air into my mouth and brought me back to life. The witch who my brother was in love with. The witch who never looked at me the way I looked at her. Forgive me for finding willing witches who would look twice at me."
Hermione felt her hackles rise. "Did your head get hit as well? Because I thought it was mostly your leg that was injured, after I restarted your heart. If you wanted to ask me out you could have anytime since well before the bloody Yule ball and you would have received a positive response. Of course, that was before I had to listen to detailed explanations, plural, of exactly how you like to fuck other women. I think I'm less keen at present."
"Are you joking right now?"
"Not in the slightest," she said, her voice lower now, but her chest still heaving from yelling at him earlier.
"You — you like me? Or liked me, I guess." Fred's voice was small and unsure as he ran his hand through his hair anxiously, his expression a bit dazed.
Well, there was no point in trying to hide her feelings now. "Head over heels for years. Yes." She bit her lip, unable to meet his eyes.
"Fuck, Granger — I am so sorry I — Merlin. I shouldn't have — at the least, I shouldn't have said anything about — fuck."
"I think we can agree on that."
"Is it too late? For me and you." His voice was low and vulnerable. It broke her heart — but in a different way than listening to him brag about other women.
Hermione blinked back tears. "I don't know. I know that everything that happened to you — getting hurt, almost dying — I know that can cause a lot of grief. I'm not expecting you to be unaffected by your experiences. But your coping mechanism of shagging your way through our very small society — that's a problem for me. I'm not going to be one of those witches and I'm not so sure that you're built for monogamy at present, Fred. So, I don't think we can date now. In the future. Maybe. But I'm not going to blow up our friendship by starting an ill advised doomed affair as part of your shitty coping mechanisms."
Fred looked at her surprised. "I would always want to be your friend, Mione. No matter what happened."
"Good for you. I'm not being friends with an ex. I don't do anything by halves. We're either together forever or it ends and I will probably never speak to you again. None of this being friends afterwards nonsense."
"That doesn't seem too mature. Especially coming from someone who is notoriously above all of my nonsense."
She narrowed her eyes at him. After his own bloody mother had heard him discuss his seduction techniques for the love of Merlin. "Eh. It's how I am. Take it or leave it."
Fred looked at the floor, pausing for a moment before he spoke again. "You know. Mum's suggested that maybe I should talk to a mind healer. She, uh, may have mentioned that I haven't seemed happy." He shuffled his feet, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
Hermione gave him a smile. "I think that's an excellent idea."
"And then, maybe we can —"
"I'm going to stop you there, Fred. You need to get sorted for your own sake. Not mine."
Fred nodded, swallowing. "Alright then, Granger. Alright. Dinner is ready. Will you come down with your old friend Fred, who will definitely be spending some time in the coming days reevaluating his recent life choices?"
Hermione smiled at him, wider than before. "I would like that. And I only want you to be happy, happy, Fred. Not just pretending to be happy."
Of course, if he could be happy without all of the rampant promiscuity, she'd like that too. If for no other reason than her own peace of mind.
The rest of the holidays passed more peaceably. Fred ceased all discussion of his conquests, finally choosing different things to talk to the relief of more than just Hermione. Truthfully, only Ron seemed to miss the more ribald version of Fred. This Fred was quieter. And he smiled less. But unlike before, the smiles he did offer were real, with his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Merlin she had missed seeing him actually smile.
Hermione had only been back at school for a week before she heard from Fred. He wrote to her, breezily discussing his plans for the shop in between asking for her thoughts on his ideas and wishing her luck with her N.E.W.T.s — while also explaining that swot such as herself did not need luck. Not with her 'bloody brilliant brain.' Hermione had felt a rush of happiness down to her toes when she read it. The letter was so perfectly Fred. The Fred she had known and missed desperately. She wrote him back of course, answering his questions, telling him about her own projects and chidingly informing him that as a Hogwarts dropout, he had no idea what the N.E.W.T.s required of a person. The thought of his reaction to that missive made her grin — she knew it would get a real smile out of him, one that would definitely reach his eyes.
Despite her busy academic schedule, she made time to keep up her correspondence with Fred for the next few months. While the tenor of their letters was nothing more than friendly banter, Hermione noted that he did not write to Ginny nearly as often — and those letters tended to be quite a bit shorter. He was being cautious, but he was making a point to be a presence in her life. A fact that pleased Hermione, even as she cautioned herself not to get her hopes up too high. Not again. Until she had a chance to see Fred with her own eyes, she really had no way of knowing what he was up to.
The next time she saw Fred in person was at her graduation ceremony and he was smiling again. Genuine smiles — already a small miracle considering it was his first time being back at Hogwarts since his injury. The entire Weasley clan and Harry came out to celebrate. Hermione found herself underneath a flurry of handshakes and hugs. Well, handshake actually — from Percy — but hugs from everyone else. George held her close so he could whisper in her ear. "He hasn't even looked at another witch since Easter, just so you know," George said, his voice pitched low so no one else would hear. "And he seems more like his old self around the shop too."
Hermione squeezed George back. "Oh thank God," she said, exhaling sharply in relief. She looked over George's shoulder to see Fred swinging Ginny around in a hug, smiling brightly at his sister. Fred caught her eye and winked. Hermione felt her heart grow lighter, even as she felt the butterflies in her stomach.
After graduation, Hermione moved into a flat in Muggle London that was within walking distance of the entrance to Diagon Alley and started her job at the Ministry, working in Wizagenmot Administration Services. She accepted the position hoping she could help with the numerous reforms being introduced post-war. Her enthusiasm for the work started off high, but she found it dimmed with every successive week. Before she started, the department head had pitched an ambitious overhaul of many laws that governed the Wizarding world. In practice, however, the system was extremely resistant to change. It was dispiriting, but she reacted by throwing herself into the work even harder — a tendency that didn't leave much time for her to have a personal life. But Fred found a way for her to make time for him.
At Fred's insistence, she left her desk on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to have lunch with him, which was always lovely. Especially since she mostly forgot to eat entirely on Tuesdays and Thursdays. After Fred — through careful questioning — realised her tendency to work the whole day through, he owled a sandwich to her office on a Thursday, with a note suggesting she also take a break to go for a walk, lest she find herself permanently stuck to her office chair.
She wasn't sure if that remark was a caution or a threat — if there was someone who could work out a way to stick you to your chair unawares, it was definitely Fred Weasley — so she took his advice.
Better to be on the safe side.
"Can't have you forgetting to eat, Granger. You need to keep your strength up so you can jump at every ridiculous demand from the stuffy entitled members of the august body you have bound yourself in service to," Fred said wryly, when she saw him at their scheduled lunch date the next day. They had been meeting regularly for six months now. Unsurprisingly, during that time Fred had figured out the actual contours of her wretched job — which were less about bringing forth needed reforms and more about trying to appease the odious old wizards and the occasional equally odious old witch, all of whom were largely unappeasable in the first place.
"I'm not your responsibility Fred," she said, her voice stern, but she smiled, her eyes fixed on him with a fond expression.
He made a non-committal noise in response, before looking at her pointedly. "No shame in sometimes needing someone else to recognize when you need help, eh Hermione?" he said, with a wry smile.
Her heart clenched. He was so adorable, it made her want to cry.
"I don't like working for the Ministry," she blurted out, as though she was confessing a dark secret. She looked around, realising too late she had spoken louder than intended. Fortunately, the other customers seemed engrossed in their own lunches and conversations. Of course she would be this indiscreet in a restaurant in Diagon, instead of the Muggle place they frequented from time to time. She looked down at her plate before meeting Fred's eyes again, her mouth quirked to one side as she shrugged. "I hate my job," she said in a low tone, as though she was confessing a crime.
Fred frowned thoughtfully, but he was clearly unsurprised by her declaration. "So quit. Come work for me and George. We'd pay you far more than they are, that I can assure you. Your brain working for our company? Priceless. No amount of galleons could possibly be sufficient."
Hermione picked up her fork and began to fiddle with it. "Would you laugh at me if I told you I want to go back to school?"
Fred snickered briefly before quickly schooling his features into a neutral expression. Then he looked at her ruefully. "That doesn't count, Granger. You didn't give me a chance to compose myself first. What were you thinking?"
"A Mastery. Or two. I'm a bit torn between transfigurations and arithmancy."
Fred chewed a bite from his pasta, considering before he spoke. "I think you should do it. Both, actually. I don't think that amazing brain of yours won't be satisfied until you do."
Hermione tilted her head. "Right, but the thing is if I leave the Ministry, I don't think I'll ever go back. This would be it."
"All the more reason for you to leave. You're too good for that place, Mione. Something I could have told you before you started, by the way. So take a moment to admire my restraint."
"I think I might end up teaching eventually," she said hesitantly, not making eye contact.
"Makes sense to me. I can understand why you wouldn't want to be forever separated from your true love — Hogwarts," Fred deadpanned.
Hermione snorted with laughter, as she continued to fidget with her cutlery. "I wouldn't want to live in the castle, though. I was thinking about a flat in Hogsmeade. You know, a nice short commute. I think I can do my mastery — or masteries — by correspondence from there, actually. I know that McGongall would allow me unrestricted access to Hogwarts library, which would be a huge boon."
"As I said —- true love . You know there's a flat above our shop in Hogsmeade, if you'd like to let it."
She straightened up in her seat. "Really? Do you want to talk to George about that first?"
"No need, he'll be on board. Although I might need to crash on the couch occasionally. If George is entertaining Angelina at our place, for example."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Fred's euphemism. "Why don't those two just move in together?"
Fred feigned a shocked expression. "Before marriage? Mum would have kittens. Besides, I don't think he's quite ready to give me up as his flatmate. He was also pretty upset by my brush with death."
"We all were," she said quietly, then bit her lip as she thought. "Are you sure ? You don't mind me taking up space in your life like that?"
"Not at all. I think I might start being more of a presence in the Hogsmeade store, actually. We've got the back room set up as our workshop and I think being able to interact with the students on Hogsmeade weekends will be invaluable for customer research. Plus my favourite consultant would be nearby."
"Fred?"
"Yes, Mione?"
"If you still wanted to date me, I would like to give it a try."
"Finally. About fucking time," he said, instantly getting out his seat, coming around to her side of the table and pulling her towards him. He reached for her face with both hands and heedlessly brought her in for a deep kiss, ignoring the shocked noises of the occupants of the nearby tables. It was several moments before they broke apart to catch their breath, during which Hermione definitely saw the flash of photography from behind her eyelids. Bloody press, she thought, but without any real heat. At least she might end up with a good photo of their first kiss. The unwanted scrutiny would be a small price to pay for that.
Fred let out a small groan as he brought his forehead down to rest against hers, his arms keeping her in close. "I was prepared to wait for as long as it took, but do you know how hard it is to be around you and not kiss you? Especially when you scrunch up your nose. With those freckles? Fucking adorable."
She put her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. "For the record, I rather like your freckles as well. I take it that you do want to date me, then."
"I want to marry you. I'll settle with dating for now."
"Don't joke about that Fred."
"Oh, I'm not joking. When will you put in your notice at the Ministry? Have you already applied for the masteries or are you just at the state of your planning process where you know all of the intricate details of what is necessary to apply for those masteries?"
Hermione gave him a rueful smile. "I haven't submitted an application yet."
Fred raised an eyebrow at her.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Fine, I have 'completed but as of yet unsent' applications at home. Happy?"
"If you are, love."
Hermione chewed her lip. "I'd like to be."
"Let's work on that together."
They kissed again. This time the patrons were more vocal about their distaste for the public display of rather enthusiastic affection. Hermione broke the kiss this time after hearing a 'well I never' in their vicinity, mortified to have forgotten herself twice. "I think we should finish our lunches quickly, so we can leave."
"Agreed. And then I need to see you the absolute minute you have finished work."
"Uh-huh. Totally agree. Do you think we should go for "dinner" too or just skip that pretence and aim for breakfast tomorrow morning instead?" She put finger quotes around the word 'dinner' and quirked an eyebrow at him by the time she got to the word 'breakfast.'
"Sweet Merlin, yes Granger. Anything you say."
"Good! See that you remember that for the future," she said sternly.
"Oh I will. How's that saying go? 'Happy wife, happy life,' I believe."
Hermione blushed. "Again, I think that's a bit premature."
"How long do you think I'll need to wait then? A week? Two weeks?"
"What?"
Fred drew out a slim pocket planner from the inside of his jacket — what was Fred bloody Weasley doing with a planner he carried with him? Hermione was vaguely embarrassed by the realisation that the sight of Fred with a hardbound planner he used in his day-to-day life aroused her almost as much as his kiss.
Fred mistook her look for shock, instead of what it actually was — abject lust for the man before her — and chuckled as he wrote "Hermione Granger" and underlined it three times on the square for two weeks in the future. "What? You don't think Fred Weasley is a planner? I am a meticulous planner, Hermione. I just happen to plan different things than you."
Hermione managed to school her features into a more appropriate level of interest. "If you say so. Two weeks should be good."
"Two weeks?" he asked, his eyes turning serious, even as his voice became much more hopeful.
"Should be sufficient," she confirmed, nodding as she pulled him towards her, grabbing him by the lapels and slamming her mouth into his, swallowing the surprised 'oof' of the man she had basically just agreed to get engaged to in two weeks time, ignoring the disgusted sound from a disgruntled patron to her left.
"But I better get back to work. I actually have to put in my two week notice there. I am going to pursue my mastery instead."
"I'm happy to help review your applications, if you'd like a second pair of eyes."
"Oh, don't bother. Those are just a formality for the most part. Both of the Professors I wish to work with had already offered me spots — unsolicited — after the war. I'm fairly confident they'll still want me, but I might have to sweet talk them a bit, so they are getting the proper applications in full."
Fred paid and then escorted her to the door. They usually said goodbye here, but this time, Fred held her hand and walked her back to the Ministry's entrance in Muggle London. He kissed her goodbye, long and slow and tender. Hermione melted beneath him, feeling safe as she was enveloped by his strong arms.
She sighed as he pulled back. "Time is going to fly by, isn't it."
"I think so," he said, grinning as he smoothed a curl away from her face. "But I'm still going to count the days."
"Me too. See you at dinner?"
"Oh, for that I'll be counting the minutes."
"5:03 pm. Unless they don't want to take my working notice, in which case I could be there in twenty-five minutes."
"Well, that would be my preference, but I think that will leave you feeling unsettled, so I will selflessly hope that is not the case and they make you work through your notice period."
"How very noble," she said dryly.
"For you to be happy and to be sure that I am what you want? Ms. Granger, you have to know that you are extremely worth the wait. No matter how long that wait is, my dear." His grin was broad and warm and his eyes were sparkling as he looked at her.
She smiled back at him, feeling her heart swell with affection. She didn't think he would be waiting for long.
