It was finally Friday night and Jeremy had just headed home, leaving Hermione and Fred alone once again to close up together. It was snowing hard outside and the whole village felt as if it were tucked away for the night under a blanket of white.
Fred flicked his wand at a radio in the corner and Hermione was startled when, rather than one of the same twenty Wizarding holiday songs came on, a piano rendition of Angels We Have Heard on High began to drift through the speakers. When she looked at him in question, she was further surprised to see Fred's cheeks had tinted pink a bit as he sorted through the stack of receipts beside the register.
"I, uh, I know you like it more than Wizard Radio," he explained awkwardly.
"Thanks," Hermione replied, a smile playing across her own lips. It was a terribly sweet gesture. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in tomorrow?"
"Nah, Jeremy and I can handle it. We're closing early anyway."
They lapsed into silence while she cast cleaning charms on the windows and floors, and Fred, in what was apparently his nightly ritual, began to make his way around the shop, restocking items that were low.
"Do you do that every night?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah, why?"
"I just sometimes come over for dinner around this time."
"Oh, I, umm, I come back down after you leave and do it."
"Oh."
They continued quietly for a few more minutes.
"It's just beautiful out there," Hermione said softly, pausing her scouring to stare out the large front window. Fat white flakes were drifting and playing around the streetlights, contrasting against the dark sky.
"It really is," Fred agreed, stopping to stand beside her. She didn't notice that he barely paid the scene before them a second glance, instead watching the serene expression of wonderment on her face.
"Get the lights for a minute? We can see better that way."
With a bemused look, Fred silently extinguished all but the small lamp over the till, casting them into darkness as they looked out the large display window, the snow now much more easily visible without the glare, and the moon peeking out from behind the clouds.
"Are you in a rush?" Fred asked, an idea forming in his mind.
"No… why on earth would you think I was in a rush?" Hermione asked, turning to look at him with a puzzled expression.
"No reason," Fred said innocently, intricately weaving his wand at his side, out of her line of sight. "Well, would you look at that?"
She turned back to find that he had shifted the merchandise in the display to the far side of the platform and conjured a heap of pillows and blankets in the middle, offering them a perfect view of the street and the sky above.
Hermione's heart was thudding so hard in her chest, she was surprised it wasn't outwardly audible. He toed his shoes off and removed his jacket, draping it over the shelf beside him before stepping up onto the wide sill and offering a hand down to her. When she hesitated, he started to pull back with an uncertain expression.
Fuck it, she thought, it was only extremely romantic if she made it out to be extremely romantic. She kicked off her boots and took his hand, letting him pull her up beside him.
Fred sank down and sat with his back against the frame of the window, giving him a perfect view down the street and up at the sky. Hermione, not wanting to be presumptuous, settled across from him and wrapped her arms around her knees.
"You're welcomed to, um…" Fred gestured at the small space beside him and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "The view doesn't seem great from over there."
"I suppose it's not," she admitted slowly, grabbing a pillow and dragging a blanket over with her. They had cuddled up before, watching films on the sofa mostly, but this felt on a whole other level. By the time she'd gotten comfortable in the space he'd indicated, her body was turned in such a way that her head and shoulders were resting against his chest. "Is this alright?"
"'S great," he replied, shifting his arm a bit so it rested on her waist. "Are you comfortable?"
"Yes," she answered honestly, letting herself mold into his side and pulling the blanket over their legs. Hermione wracked her brain and concluded that she couldn't think of a time in her whole life that she had felt safer, or more at peace, than she did in that moment.
The snow continued to drift, and the clouds shifted, revealing glimpses of the moon and the stars above. The songs on the radio changed until finally a familiar tune began and Hermione chuckled under her breath.
"This was always my favorite when I was little, my dad would play it on the piano for me," she explained as Judy Garland started to croon.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the yuletide gay
From now on
Our troubles will be miles away
"Hermione," Fred started in a low voice that made her stomach flutter. She felt like she was barely breathing as she turned to look up at him, their faces just inches apart. His right hand came around to rest his fingertips lightly on her jaw. She licked her lips and his gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before reconnecting with her eyes, full of something warm and enticing.
"Yes, Fred?" she asked in the ghost of a whisper.
"I-"
Just then, a magpie Patronus swept through the window and stopped in front of them
"Taking Angie to the hospital, something is wrong, meet me there," George's panicked voice cut through the shop before the apparition dissolved. There was a beat of silence in which they both stayed frozen in place, staring at the space it had occupied.
"Go," Hermione commanded, immediately disentangling herself from him. "I'll close up here."
His face having turned deathly pale, Fred nodded and quickly got up, slipping his shoes on and grabbing his jacket. He stopped for a moment and waivered in place while his eyes met hers again, only this time they were wide and frightened.
"Hermione –"
"Go," she intoned again and offered what she hoped was a reassuring expression, "it's okay."
He looked like he was going to say something anyway but decided against it before turning on the spot and disappearing with a pop.
Hermione pulled in a tremendous breath and let it out, utterly consumed by a mix of emotions. Lust, anticipation, confusion, disappointment and, at the forefront, extreme anxiety for Angelina and the twins.
With a sad sigh, she got up and pulled her boots back on, vanishing the pillows and blankets and setting the display window back to rights. Not wanting Fred to have to deal with the shop being a mess, she finished her cleaning from earlier before picking up the crate he'd discarded and continuing to restock the shelves with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of each product.
When everything was done, she made sure he already put the money in the safe in the back of the shop and finished organizing the counter. Chewing the edge of her lip, she was torn between going back to her place and going upstairs to wait in his flat. She ultimately settled on the latter, locking up and tweaking the wards before heading up the stairs and letting herself in.
Hermione made a small fire in the hearth and curled up in the overstuffed armchair beside the tree. Coming down from the earlier rush of adrenaline, it wasn't long before she started to doze off, head resting on the back of the chair with her legs tucked beneath her.
She awoke about an hour later to a tapping on the glass across the room. Rubbing her eyes, she extricated her stiff legs and crossed to open the window and remove a letter from the beak of a bored looking grey barn owl. When he realized she didn't have anything to offer in the way of treats, he took off with a melodramatic flourish.
Hermione unfolded the note and felt herself relax as she read.
Hermione,
Angie and the babies are fine, the healer said it was just false labor. George is a little shaken up, but Angie is still insisting on having the party. I'm going to stay here until he calms down a bit. Thank you so much for closing up the shop, I'll see you tomorrow.
Yours,
Fred
Previous tension leaving her body, she extinguished the fire and apparated home.
oOoOoOo
"Hermione?" Ginny called out, stepping out of the fireplace into her friend's living room, "Are you here?"
"Yeah, come on up," Hermione shouted down the stairs. She was currently standing in the middle of her bedroom in a knee-length purple dressing gown, staring at a small collection of holiday jumpers on her bed.
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before kicking off her shoes and sitting cross-legged up near the pillows.
"Trying to pick which one to wear tonight," she explained. She tapped one of the articles with her wand and it changed from green to dark blue.
"Are we aiming to impress someone?" Ginny asked suggestively.
"You're as bad as your husband," Hermione groaned, giving the witch a reproachful look.
"Speaking of which, Harry told me about Charlotte."
"I figured he would. What do you think?"
"It's ghastly," Ginny said, recoiling from the aggressively pattered jumper Hermione was holding, which featured multicolored cats wearing Christmas hats.
"About Charlotte," Hermione rolled her eyes, dropping the shirt and crossing to sink onto the stool in front of her vanity.
"Oh. I think that's brilliant."
"You think I can pull it off?"
"That jumper? Or being a mum?"
Hermione didn't dignify that with a response, just giving the ginger witch another pointed look.
"Hermione," Ginny said in a serious tone, "you spent the better part of our formative years keeping my husband and my brother alive. You even saved my arse on more than one occasion. You're going to be fantastic, there's no reason to doubt yourself."
"Thanks Gin," she replied, surprised to feel herself noticeably calmed by the affirmation. Luna and Theo were two of her closest friends, but next to Harry and Ron, Ginny had known her the longest. They certainly had different interests, but she was the first female companion Hermione had ever really had.
"Fab. Now, which of these best says, 'ravish me'?" Ginny wondered aloud, getting up to stand at the foot of the bed where Hermione had been, finger tapping her chin in contemplation.
"You realize it would be saying 'ravish me' to your brother, correct?"
"I am violently pretending that is not the case," she waved off, sifting through the discarded articles with an expression of disdain. "Hermione, these all look like something my Aunt Muriel would wear."
"They're supposed to be ugly," Hermione defended, pulling her knees into her chest and resting her chin on them.
"Some of these redefine the very word," Ginny said with a wrinkled nose before turning and heading for Hermione's wardrobe. She rummaged for a moment. "What about this?"
"That's not ugly at all!"
"Precisely."
The redhead had extracted a hanger with a slinky, silvery grey top that had part of the back cut away.
"I can't wear that!" Hermione cried, fervently shaking her head. It was something she had bought on impulse because it was discounted and then immediately shoved to the back of her closet to be forgotten about. It still had the tag on it.
"Sure you can – I even have a charm for your tits so your bra straps won't show."
"Ginny, I'm going to look ridiculous, everyone else will be wearing garish holiday attire."
"I'm sure there will be plenty of girls in attractive jumpers and dresses. I mean, can you see Verity wearing that?" Ginny said, pointing at the cat-patterned top.
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the witch, disregarding the derisive comment about her clothing.
"Who told you about Verity?"
"Angie might have mentioned it at the hospital last night when we were waiting for her to be discharged."
Hermione groaned, dropping her head into her hands. It was positively lovely having her personal life be the center of gossip within their circle of friends.
"Okay, see, this is why you have to look fit tonight. I don't know what Fred is thinking going with her, but you are going to make him deeply regret it. Now turn around and let me do your hair."
"You're like a really pushy fairy godmother."
"I don't know what that means," Ginny replied in a distracted tone, beginning to pin her friend's curls into place.