Chapter Two - Film Night Snuggles

Hermione added a couple of logs to the fire that she'd built in her sitting-room hearth. Then, going from room to room, she lit a few gingerbread scented candles, checking to make sure that everything was tidy as she went. Her friends were coming over and it was the perfect cold, snowy night to stay inside and watch a Christmas film.

They tried to do this monthly, taking turns to host, and it was her turn. They'd missed November but managed to have a large enough group for tonight; only Percy and Oliver couldn't make it this time. They were attending Oliver's holiday quidditch banquet.

After leaving Hogwarts, Hermione discovered that she genuinely loved to fuss in the kitchen, and typically tested new recipes when she hosted film night. Unfortunately, with the huge order that she'd filled for St. Mungo's and delivered on Thursday, followed by a much smaller order that she filled for a specialty apothecary the previous day, she hadn't felt up to making a big meal. Instead, she'd impulsively stopped into Trattoria Bella Rosa to order a takeaway meal that she knew her friends would love.

As soon as she entered the restaurant she was greeted by her delivery man from Wednesday. He held the door open with a charming smile, "Welcome! You must meet my Nonna, she'll be pleased to see you. She's been talking constantly about the handsome and romantic young man who uses her spaghetti to woo his sweetheart." He started to turn away, but paused and added, "I'm Luca, by the way. I don't think I introduced myself the other day."

"Thank you, Luca. I'm Hermione, and I would love to meet your Nonna." She followed Luca as he led the way through the cozy restaurant. It was the type of place that made you feel welcome. It was divided into rooms as if it had once been a home instead of a place of business. Each room held a large brick fireplace and as many simple, wooden tables as would comfortably fit. Decorations were sparse and simple, yet the place was packed. The food was clearly the star and kept patrons returning for more of the delicious fare.

Hermione was led to a hallway and asked to wait for a moment while Luca pushed open a swinging door. The warmth and divine scents that wafted out told Hermione that he was going into the kitchen. A moment later, a tiny gray-haired woman rushed into the hallway. She greeted Hermione warmly, kissing her on each cheek as her grandson made the introductions.

With an appraising gaze, the lovely woman who had invited Hermione to call her Nonna nodded, "Yes, yes, yes. The two of you are perfect. I can see it. You will make beautiful babies."

"I don't even know who he is, Nonna. How can I possibly…"

Grinning as she was interrupted by a firm shake of the head, "No, you are perfect, you will see. You will come back and visit me when he woos you properly. The two of you will have dinner, a date."

The elderly woman smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Hermione. Don't forget, come back and see me. Ask for Nonna when you come. My staff knows that if someone is allowed to call me that it's because I want to see them. Now, I must get back to my sauce. Luca will help you with whatever you need. He's a good boy."

Feeling as if she'd been caught up in a tiny, but powerful whirlwind, Hermione turned to Luca. "Do you have a takeaway menu? I need to feed a crowd tonight."

Just a few hours later, she was setting everything up family style at her table. They typically had appetisers, or other snacks that they could eat while watching the film, but tonight they would have a real meal before they began. She really didn't think that anyone would complain.

Hermione knew she had probably gone overboard on the food; unable to decide between the family trays of chicken cannelloni and lasagne, she'd gotten both. When she'd worried that she was getting far too much for only eight people, she reminded herself that four of those people were Weasleys, and Angelina's appetite had increased with her pregnancy.

She was arranging the pans of pasta alongside crusty focaccia bread, bright garden salads, and bottles of the Italian red she'd picked up when her floo signaled that the first guest had arrived.

It was Ginny and Harry, who were immediately followed by Ron and Lavender. "What smells so amazing?" Ginny demanded to know, sniffing the air appreciatively.

Before Hermione could answer, George and Angelina stepped out of the emerald flames and joined the group. When no one followed, Hermione looked at them in confusion. "Where's Fred? Isn't he joining us too?"

Please let him be coming. She did not want to be the only single person while the rest of them snuggled up to watch the film later. The sadness that she'd experienced the previous weekend had been extinguished by the lovely gesture from her secret admirer, even if she did doubt his existence. There hadn't been anything else, not even a note since Wednesday, but it had broken her out of the strange melancholy.

George grinned broadly, greeting everyone before answering Hermione directly. "We had a late crowd in the shop. Fred offered to finish up while I showered. He knew that Angie was starving and he said that he didn't want to be responsible for delaying his niece or nephew's meal. He'd just come up to shower as we were leaving. He should be along shortly."

"Before we were interrupted," Ginny looked at George pointedly, "Hermione was about to tell us what smells so good."

"Well, come into the kitchen and see for yourselves."

Hermione led everyone to the table, explaining that she hadn't wanted to cook after brewing all week, so she'd gotten takeaway from a little Italian restaurant nearby.

When Fred arrived a little while later, they were busily passing the food around the table. He took the only open seat, which, once again, happened to be next to Hermione. As he sat down, she couldn't help but notice how good he smelled, even better than the food. Through the meal she found herself leaning toward him, drawn by his scent. Had he always smelled like that? And why hadn't she noticed?

All around the table, groans of pleasure rang out as the group started to eat. Around a large bite of lasagne, Ron asked, "'Ermione, wher'd ooh et ths?"

It was only through years of experience that everyone managed to understand precisely what he'd been asking. Rolling her eyes at Ron's predictability, Hermione responded with a grin. "Oh, it's this lovely little Italian place called Trattoria Bella Rosa…" she'd planned to tell them about Nonna, but a choking noise from her right, where Fred was seated, made her forget what she was saying.

Patting him on the back in concern, she asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he sputtered, glaring at George when his twin snorted with laughter. "Really," he insisted, turning back to his food to prove it. But when Hermione snuck a glance a moment later, she saw that the tips of his ears were pink, which was strange. Fred Weasley didn't embarrass easily, and certainly not from something as seemingly innocuous as that.

When they had all eaten their fill, Hermione stood to clear the table. "Does everyone want pudding now, or after the film? I got tiramisu from the restaurant."

Unanimously, they decided that they were too stuffed to eat anything else at present. Hermione quickly set the dishes to wash themselves, and grabbed the cup that she'd prepared ahead of time with tiny strips of paper that held each person's name. This was how they picked a film each time they met. They drew a name from the cup and that person got to pick. Once you had a turn, your name didn't get added back until everyone had a night to choose. Last time, they'd made it through the final name so everyone was back in this round.

Holding the cup over her head, she mixed the tiny bits of paper with her fingers before selecting one. Unfolding it, she groaned, "Oh no!" She glanced around at the group knowing that there was a dejected expression on her face. Reading the slip of paper, she held it out for the others to see. "Harry," she announced, flatly.

The man in question grinned broadly, producing a DVD from somewhere on his person and proudly held it aloft. "We'll be watching, Scream ."

"It's Christmas, you couldn't have picked a nice classic holiday film? I was so looking forward to watching something nice tonight," Hermione complained.

"Nope, sorry. You know the rules. I've been waiting for months to watch this one," Harry shrugged, not looking sorry at all.

"You lot, go on and get comfy. I'm just going to put the food in the fridge, I'll be in shortly." She knew that she was being bratty, but she couldn't help it. Hermione hated horror films. Even though she knew full well what was really out there and could certainly hold her own, the silly, scary films terrified her. She'd probably have nightmares.

By the time she finished putting the last of the food in her fridge and made it into the sitting room, every available seat she had was taken, which shouldn't have fucking surprised her the way things seemed to be going that evening.

The three couples had taken over her entire L- shaped sofa, and Fred was sprawled in her reading chair. She couldn't blame him, it was fabulously comfortable. When she'd seen it in the shop, she hadn't been able to resist. It was wide enough for her to curl up comfortably without being squashed, but the best part was that it had an attached leg rest, so it was basically a sofa with a chair back.

Resigned, she approached Fred. "Would you pass me a couple of cushions and a blanket from that basket next to you, please?"

"Why?"

"There's no space on the furniture. I'm just going to get comfortable on the floor."

"Absolutely not. This amazing chair has more than enough room for both of us. Cuddle up, love," he winked cheekily, "I won't bite."

She allowed herself to be pulled into the chair next to the wonderful smelling Weasley. "Pass me a blanket, please."

"Why do you need that? There's a fire, and I promise I'll keep you warm." He waggled his eyebrows to emphasize the last.

Chewing on her lip, she admitted in a whisper, "It's not that. I just hate scary films. I usually bury my head in the blanket when I don't want to look."

"Well, you won't be needing it. I'll get it for you if it makes you feel better, but I promise to protect you. See," he demonstrated by wrapping his arm around her body and pulling her snugly against his side, "you can hide your face right here against my chest if you need to." With her heart suddenly beating wildly, she let him maneuver her into the position that he was describing. Had his scent always been this distracting? This was definitely preferable to sitting alone on the floor, but her reaction was confusing the heck out of her.

The first frightening scene had her getting even closer, Fred's arm tightening around her waist as he shifted his other hand, taking hers and lacing their fingers together. When she hid her face, burying her nose against his soft t-shirt, her senses were overwhelmed. She wanted nothing more than to lift her head and snog him senseless, or suck on the enticing pulse point on his neck. What on earth? Where were these thoughts coming from?

"You smell really good." Her murmured words were only loud enough for him to hear, but as soon as they left her mouth, she felt as if she'd been shouting.

A smug smirk graced his lips as he looked down at her, meeting her hesitant gaze. "You think I smell good?"

"Yes, wonderful, actually. Is that a new cologne or something?

"Or something…" he responded, his attention seemingly on the telly again, but she noticed that his arms tightened a little more around her body. The hand that wasn't holding hers slid up her back until it came to rest where he could play with the hairs at the nape of her neck.

When the film was over, Hermione reluctantly extracted herself from Fred's arms, the loss of his touch making her feel immediately empty. Standing next to the chair, she surveyed the room. Angelina was asleep, leaning heavily against George. Lavender, who had been seated on the end of the sofa closest to where Fred and Hermione shared the chair, sent her a knowing smile and a tiny wink.

"Who's up for some of that tiramisu now?"

Everyone nodded except for George who gestured toward his sleeping wife. "I need to get her home and into bed."

Hermione smiled. "Give me a second, I'll box some for the two of you to take home."

Once George and Angie were gone, Hermione returned to the kitchen telling everyone to stay put and she would bring the pudding to them. Lavender hopped up with an eager, "I'll help you."

As soon as they were alone, the blonde enthusiastically bombarded her with questions. "So, you and Fred? That's so exciting. How did it happen? When did it happen?"

"It was nothing. He just offered for me to sit with him instead of on the floor. Then, when I let him know that I don't enjoy being scared out of my wits by those stupid horror films, he cuddled me up. It was just Fred being a friendly Weasley and taking care of me. I'm sure he thinks of me as another little sister or something. It wasn't like what you're thinking."

Lavender stood there, hand on one hip, with lips pursed and eyebrows raised. Her posture clearly said that she wasn't buying a word of what Hermione had to say. When her lips curved into a smug smirk, Hermione wanted to groan aloud. She didn't have to wait long to find out what was on her friend's mind. "What I didn't hear you say in all of that is that you're not interested in him. And who can blame you? Just look at him, he's a prime specimen. Not that any of the Weasley men are lacking in the looks department, but he's the total package, isn't he?"

Without another word, she took half of the plates that were filled with the decadent confection and brought them back into the sitting room, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.

As soon as everyone ate, Ron and Harry immediately turned to Lavender and Ginny, reminding them that they had work early the next day and should be going. Before Hermione really knew what was happening, she found herself completely alone with Fred.

He smiled at her. "What are your plans for the rest of the evening? You don't have work tomorrow, and it's still fairly early."

"Um, well, I was just going to pop in an actual Christmas film, something that will take those awful images out of my head before I try to sleep." She fiddled with the hem of her jumper nervously as she stood next to the floo where she'd wished everyone else a good night only moments before.

"Would you mind some company? My flat is a little lonely at night since George and Angie got their own place and moved out. We aren't open tomorrow, but you know that Sunday is our normal day to be closed." The pink tint creeping up his neck and onto his ears made her wonder to herself as it had at dinner. Why was he embarrassed? He had been rambling a bit, but she couldn't work out why that would matter.

She desperately wanted to tell him to stay, but she was terrified of how she'd been feeling just being next to him all evening. But… she really did want him to stay, and there was no good reason to send him home to his empty flat. Smiling, she nodded, "I would love some company. Do you want anything else to eat? Some tea, perhaps?"

"Godric, no! I'm stuffed. Want some help clearing up before we start the film?"

"Thanks, but there's no need. Since I didn't cook tonight and I set the dishes to wash, it's all done." Why was she so nervous? She felt awkward when she asked, "Ready for me to start the film then?"

Grinning, he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way across the room. She set up the telly again as he sat down. When she had the film ready to go, she turned to find herself faced with a dilemma. Fred was once again seated in her reading chair where they'd been cozily cuddled together all evening. What she really wanted to do was snuggle into his side again, but was that what he wanted? Or did he expect her to take the sofa?

Erring on the side of caution, she made her way toward the bit of sofa that was closest to the chair. When he noticed where she was headed, Fred frowned in confusion. "I thought you would sit here with me again. Weren't you comfortable earlier?"

"Yes," she admitted, "I just didn't know if you were, and I thought you might prefer to sit alone."

"Definitely not. I was comfy too. Get over here!" When she got close enough, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her down so that she was practically on top of his lap. Laughing now, she no longer felt self-conscious; she was elated but confused. In the end, she decided to simply enjoy the moment without worrying about what was going on.

Although she'd planned to watch a sappy Christmas film, she decided to switch to something that Fred would enjoy as well. With him in mind, she'd gone with National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Soon, lulled by the comfort of Fred's arms, the vibrations of his chest when he laughed, and the familiar dialogue, Hermione drifted off to sleep.

She was only vaguely aware when Fred lifted her sleeping form and carried her to bed. When he tucked her in, placing a kiss on her forehead, and murmuring, "Sweet dreams, gorgeous," she was in a kind of twilight sleep. When she woke the next morning, fully dressed in the leggings and jumper she'd worn the night before, she wondered how much of what she remembered was a dream, and what had actually happened.