She knew that Fred had walked in before she even looked up. There was a sudden hush followed by a flurry of giggles and whispers suddenly sweeping the classroom, serving in stark contrast to the usual bustle of lunchtime. As she lifted her gaze from the papers in front of her, his eyes locked with hers and she felt a faint flutter in her belly as a wry grin twisted his lips.

"Come on now," she chastised the students, trying, with some effort, to draw their attention, "finish eating your lunches and then we can get to work on our craft projects with Mr. Fred."

It took several moments, but the children eventually turned back to their food, sitting in groups around the room and chattering excitedly as they ate.

"Hello, gorgeous," Fred greeted her, having made his way to the front of the class to give her a hug. His arms snaked around her waist as he squeezed her gently. He smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, tinged ever so slightly with gunpowder. It was a pleasant combination, to say the least.

"Thank you so much again for doing this," Hermione said when they pulled apart. He'd barely changed over the years save for a couple more lines around his eyes where they crinkled when he laughed. His copper hair, worn long and shaggy in their youth, was now cropped shorter on the sides and tousled on top, and he was clad in a pair of tan trousers and a green Christmas jumper with snowflakes on it.

"It's hardly a chore," he replied, waving her off and sinking into an empty seat near her desk. "Besides, I'd be in the wrong line of work if I didn't like kids."

"Well, they certainly like you," she remarked, resuming her own spot and tucking away the papers she had been reviewing. "They're more excited than when Harry visits."

"Well, you know, I am extremely famous," he joked. He caught sight of Teddy Lupin sitting at a nearby table and returned his excited wave. The little boy's hair was striped red and green in the spirit of the day. "So, what all are we doing, anyway?"

Hermione blinked twice, tearing her eyes from the smattering of freckles across his nose that she'd unintentionally been staring at.

"Erm, Kneazles are decorating ornaments, Bowtruckles are making snow globes, and Dragons are making sock-penguins and then attempting to charm them to waddle about."

"Sock-penguins?" he asked incredulously. She turned in her seat to grab the example off the windowsill. It was a black tube sock, filled with dry rice and secured at the top with a rubber band. A second rubber band was positioned about a third of the way down, creating a portly, penguin-shaped body. He had a white felt middle and an orange nose with two googly eyes stuck above it. Finally, there was a ribbon fastened around his neck for a scarf, and the toe of another sock, this one blue, had been cut off and slipped over his head to look like a hat.

"Well, that's positively charming," Fred said, taking the little fellow in his hands. "'Excutite' for the waddling?"

"Modified, actually; 'Signum Excutite,'" she corrected, accepting the penguin back. "They just have the practice wands, so it'll be weakened, but it should last at least until Christmas if they do it properly."

She placed the small figure on her desk and poked it in the midsection, in response to which it began to rock back and forth in a slow path forward, stopping beside a mug full of spare quills.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said with a wry grin, shaking his head at her. "Most people wouldn't think to use a spell intended to sift flour for a children's craft."

"You would," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows at him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by one of the eight-year-olds, Charlotte, knocking over her bottle of pumpkin juice.

"My book!" she cried, jerking the sodden novel out of the puddle a second too late. She was a slip of a girl, thick brown hair pulled back with a headband and blue eyes rapidly pooling with tears.

"It's okay," Hermione said in a soothing voice, drawing her wand as she strode over.

"No, it's – it's ruined," Charlotte whimpered, looking up at her with dismay. Hermione waved her wand and vanished the sticky juice from the table and floor before turning to Charlotte, only to find Fred had already knelt beside her.

"None of that, none of that," he said, conjuring a handkerchief and exchanging it for the book as Charlotte began to softly sob into it. Fred quickly moved his own wand in an intricate pattern, suspending the volume in the air while rapidly drying and cleaning each page. It was a truly impressive bit of magic. After a moment he caught it in his hands. "See? Good as new."

He offered the book back to Charlotte, who accepted it with wide eyes as Hermione knelt on her other side. After several more calming words, the girl quieted and began to read again, fingers tracing the edges of the pages reverently.

"Five minutes left on lunch," Hermione announced as she and Fred settled back at the front of the room.

"Well, she certainly reminds me of someone," Fred said with a grin, gesturing at Charlotte. "Bit attached to her book, she is."

"She does remind me of my younger self sometimes," Hermione admitted, debating telling him why that observation was so incredibly astute before settling against it. This wasn't the time. "Just started with us this year actually."

"Why not sooner?" Fred asked curiously.

"She's one of Draco's," Hermione explained.

Ten years ago, the idea of referring to Draco Malfoy by his first name, let alone in a friendly fashion, would have had her doubled over in laughter, but he truly had turned over a new leaf.

After the war, Hermione and Harry had both testified on his and Narcissa's behalf, ultimately earning them six months of house arrest followed by a year of probation in which their movements and wands were closely monitored. Lucius had not fared so well, sentenced to life in Azkaban, but Hermione had quickly discovered that there was no love lost between Draco and his father, and Narcissa wasted no time serving him divorce papers once all of the Malfoy holdings had been moved into her son's name.

Part of their probation had included weekly Muggle Studies classes, as well as working with some of the war orphans, who were in a makeshift foster program through the ministry. Draco must have grown attached to the kids because when his probation was up, he and his mother demolished part of Malfoy manor and, after extensive construction, reopened it as a wizarding orphanage named Malfoy House.

Following a number of rather painful conversations, he and Hermione had reconciled their schoolyard differences. He had apologised, and she had come to understand that he had lost his childhood to the war just as much as Harry had. He could still be a prat, but he clearly cared about the children, and all of those that were of-age attended her school.

"War orphan?" Fred asked in a hushed tone, brow furrowing as he took in the little girl. Upon closer examination, she was seated a little bit away from the other children and was clutching her book so hard that her knuckles were white.

"Muggle-born," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Draco said she was bounced around foster care until a burst of accidental magic set the sofa on fire in her last house. The ministry pulled her out and worked with the muggle authorities to smooth things over."

"Were they…?"

"I don't know. I don't think they were physically abusing her, but she's very attached to her belongings, and we allow her to keep a snack at her desk. When she started, she was sneaking her lunch out of her cubby to keep it with her during the day. I don't think they were feeding her very well."

"That's brutal," Fred said, shaking his head. She nodded before taking a breath and rubbing her hands together.

"Well, it's showtime. Grab that box of socks."

oOoOoOo

The holiday crafts couldn't have gone better as far as Hermione was concerned. Fred had stayed in her room for the majority of the time, briefly going to Theo's to offer his assistance and returning a short time later with a vaguely haunted look in his eye. When asked what happened, he responded only with the words 'shaving cream.'

The pair moved around the class and helped where it was needed, celebrating when every single child in the Dragon group managed to get their penguin to move. Most of them having been with her for three years, they were the most advanced class yet.

Though he circulated the room, Hermione noticed that Fred paid special attention to Charlotte, who was very carefully painting the words 'Happy Christmas' in painstakingly even letters across the side of her ornament. Though she was typically very quiet, she eventually warmed up and started to tell him all about the book she was reading, Matilda.

Hermione surprised the children with hot cocoa near the end of the day and had them each go around the room and say something that they wanted for Christmas. There were still two days of class the following week, but many of the parents had opted to start the holiday vacation early because of travel plans and family events.

The answers were mostly toys of varying muggle and magical origin. Teddy, who had just turned eight, talked about how his Uncle Harry was going to get him a broom and teach him how to fly when the weather was warmer. One little boy named Remy explained that he was going to see his dad, who had been away on business for several months. When it got to Charlotte, she quietly said that she had never had a magic Christmas before, but that she hoped she would get more books.

When Hermione briefly caught Fred's eye across the room, he appeared to be debating how best to wrap the entire Flourish and Blott's catalogue for the girl.

They helped the children pack up and cast unbreakable charms on all of the projects, envisioning shattered ornaments and mangled sock-penguins emerging from their bags at home. When the last child had left and Hermione locked up, she and Fred stood in the empty entry hall of the academy.

"That was so much fun, you're positively fantastic with them," Hermione said, voice giving away how genuinely impressed she was. "If you ever decide entrepreneurship isn't your calling, I will happily bring you on as a teacher."

"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed. Hermione was suddenly struck with the bizarre sensation that one got at the end of a date, standing in the silent chamber, perhaps a foot apart. She drew in a slightly shaky breath as she looked up at him, noticing a bit of blue paint on his cheek.

"You have something, just there," she said, gesturing at the side of his face. "May I?"

He nodded and, rather than the cleaning charms she used on Theo, she conjured a flannel and wet it with an augamenti spell. She placed her left hand on his chin to tilt his head a bit and wiped the paint away with the cloth in her right. When it was gone her fingertips lingered on his jaw, the feeling of light stubble and warm skin beneath them.

Fred looked a bit surprised but didn't make any move to pull away. A beat passed in which it felt like they were suspended in time. Then there was a clatter from Theo's room and they were both rather suddenly reminded that they weren't alone. Hermione dropped her hand and took a step back, vanishing the rag.

Fred swallowed hard and licked his lips before asking in a nonchalant tone, "Dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that. Your place?"

He nodded.

"Great – I have some cleaning to do, but I can meet you around six it that's all right."

"That'll suit; are you sure you don't want any help straightening up?"

"I'm fine. That's what magic is for, isn't it?"

Fred raised his hands in a show of defeat before summoning his coat from the classroom. He then said goodbye and stepped into a nearby fireplace, disappearing in a pyre of emerald flames.

Her eyes lingered on where he had been, mind racing with the charge that had been in the air a moment earlier. There was no way she had imagined that. The sound of a throat clearing made her jump.

"You have a bit of drool, right there," Theo said, gesturing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe of his classroom with a smug smirk, "might want to do something about that."

"Sod off," she said, rolling her eyes. "How were the kids today?"

"You don't pay me enough," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't pay you at all," Hermione pointed out. It was true. While she certainly wasn't a proponent of slave labor - she had her history with S.P.E.W. to back that up - when Theo had joined the staff a year and a half prior following Draco's recommendation, he stated he had "too much money and too much time" when she brought up his salary.

"Nevertheless, there are methods of torture that are kinder than what I went through today." He followed her into her classroom, looking demoralized at the relative cleanliness of it as she began to set things to rights. "Why don't you go home and get ready for your date?"

"It's not a date," she said, shooting him a glare. "We have dinner together a couple times a week."

"Mmm, mmm-hmm, right. On a Friday night? After nearly making out in a place where children come to learn?"

Hermione lost her concentration and sent a stack of books thudding to the ground before nearly tripping over them. She looked up, scandalised. "We did not –"

"Please. I had to levitate a desk into the wall so you two didn't start shagging like bunnies. When was the last time you got some anyway?"

"You are a nosy git, you know that?" she shot at him, gathering the stack of discarded texts.

"More than two months?" he inquired. "More than six months?"

She stopped in front of her desk and hung her head. He wasn't going to let it go.

"Nearly a year," she muttered.

"Merlin Hermione, you probably have cobwebs in your-"

"Hey! Not all of us have such an easy time dating, you know?"

"Wait, was the last time Ernie? As in, Ernie-that-couldn't-get-you-off-if-the-fate-of-the-world-hung-in-the-balance, Ernie?"

"He was a very sweet guy, and I don't mind taking care of things myself," she defended, collecting her bag and cloak.

"Ah yes, I'm sure you'll be very happy living the rest of your life as Mrs. Purple Vibrator. You'll have lots of little sex toy babies. Remind me again where you're registered?"

"I hate you, and I am leaving."

"That's right, go clean the dust off your-"

"Good NIGHT Theo!" Hermione called over her shoulder as she made a break for the fireplace in the front hall, trusting him to lock things up. It was still twenty minutes to six, so she flooed home to deposit her things and feed Felix.

"You don't think my sex life is pathetic, do you?" she asked the half-kneazle, standing in front of the mirror beside her wardrobe. She was still in her work clothes and feeling a little discouraged about it. Stripping off the conservatively hemmed skirt and button-down blouse, she went to her dresser and extracted a pair of black leggings and a fitted grey sweaterdress that cut off mid-thigh.

Pulling them on, she debated adding some makeup and then rolled her eyes at herself. She was being stupid, this was Fred for crying out loud. Just Fred.

She pinned her hair up in a messy bun and rolled a tube of Chapstick over her lips before shaking her head at herself in the mirror and descending the stairs.