At some point they had fallen asleep and woken to a darkened window. Hermione quickly whipped up some real dinner on the induction stove top. It was far too healthy with not nearly enough salt but he didn't complain. The flavor of the food hardly mattered after Fred rooted around under the bathroom sink and pulled out a dusty bottle of vodka.

"Jesus, is that thing from prohibition?" Hermione frowned at the clear liquid.

"Maybe." Fred shrugged. "I'll check to see if there is an XXX on the label."

"I'm not drinking that. Who knows what is in it."

"Well I'm bored and I am fairly certain that there are no calories in vodka." Fred smiled widely as he dangled the bottle in front of her.

"Are you calling me fat?" she scoffed, swiping it from his grip and pulling out two teacups to fill.

"No!" Fred shifted uncomfortably. "I just know that dancers are always hyper aware of their weight and...well... yeah..."

She stared at him for a moment before she was unable to hide her laughter.

"Well at least you have more tact than Ron or Harry. I'd swear they took lessons from your mother on fussing."

"Well you are too thin." Hermione glared at him and he amended the statement. "But I suppose that's part and parcel to the package."

"It is," she responded curtly.

Hermione popped open her freezer staring at an ice cube tray she hadn't filled in months. Four lonely cubes were nestled tightly in their slots.

"You're in luck. I have some artisanal aged ice. This stuff has all the flavor of New York water in the summer."

"So premium city water with notes of iron and e. coli from your rusted pipes. Nice."

"Shut up and take your drink."

Fred and her toasted to dreams and snowstorms with wide smiled on their faces. They threw back the first cup in one go and Hermione cringed in disgust.

"God is that moonshine? I think I could use it to remove nail polish."

"Too good for a little country burn?" Fred poured them another cup but couldn't quite hide his grimace either.

"How can you stomach it?" she questioned even as she took another sip. It was just as bad in small amounts.

"Well… Not to give you more blackmail, but George and I may have built a still in the barn out back when we were seventeen."

"I have never seen a barn at your house?"

"Erm… we may have burned it down."

Hermione laughed and threw back the swill anyway.

"If I die, I expect you to carry me to the hospital. It's only fair."

"If you die, I'll off myself too. Could you imagine what my family would do to me?"

A few drinks later her cheeks were flushed and she couldn't even taste the liquor anymore. A dangerous precedent that had Fred stumbling to hide it on top of the fridge where she couldn't reach.

"If you have any more, you'll puke and we can't open the window to air the smell out."

"But I want more!" she whined.

"I'm sure you do. But one of us has to be a responsible drunk and I have more practice."

"Bah!" She fell back onto her bed with a sigh. The cheap springs bounced noisily and dug harshly into her back. She was fairly certain that the mattress was older than her. Fred fell next to her with equal gusto.

They stared at the ceiling listening to the ambient music of the city. For once the sounds were muted. There was no traffic, even the craziest of drivers were packed inside. Sirens still screamed distantly but after bouncing between buildings and echoing down empty streets they seemed much more ethereal than piercing. Pipes clanged as they moved heat and hot water through the walls of her building and through the window she could hear someone was blaring polka music. Somewhere down the hall a couple was fighting, their raised voices muffled but echoing with anger and frustration. Even with two feet of snow dampening the sound, the city would never be truly silent.

"Never sleeps, does it?" Fred murmured.

When she looked at him his eyes were closed, his hands folded over his chest with a private smile on his face. Her heart fluttered at the image as he lightly swayed his head to music only he could hear.

"I love it," she agreed.

They listened in silence, Fred's fingers fingers picking at imaginary strings. Every once in a while he would pause and shake his head before repeating the same motion all over again with the barest adjustments. It occurred to her that he was writing and she was absolutely entrapped by the way his hands drifted through the air with practiced grace as if he were holding the instrument in his hand.

They responded to the pitched voices of the hall rising and falling in time. The drum of shaking pipes and muted televisions provided a living backbone for him to layer his masterpiece on.

Hermione knew music, she knew art, but she wasn't a creator. Classical ballet was a rigorous field, based on studying and memorization of steps. Her training was in repetition until her toes bled and her ankles swelled. To see something being created right in front of her was magic all it's own. Suddenly there was a sound of glass shattering, followed by silence. After a moment there was a loud thump, likely the arguing pair falling together in a tangle of limbs.

His fingers stilled, the imaginary notes seeming to fade away into the air as he slowly cracked his eyes open. He turned towards her with a lazy, satisfied grin. When he spoke his voice was smooth and relaxed.

"Art is born in the shitty paper thin walls of a Bronx apartment."

"Bit wordy of a title if you ask me."

Fred smiled and rolled over to drag a hand through her hair, separating the knots as he came across them. It made the whole thing frizz up to unreasonable levels but no one else was there to see it so she didn't say anything. Hermione could see the music dancing just behind his eyes, notes falling into place until a satisfied gleam overtook his eyes.

"Will you play it for me?" she asked.

"It's not done."

"I don't care."

Hermione didn't tell him that she always loved to hear him play. Even during the holidays when he worked awkwardly through new pieces or simply played freeform while he tuned his violin in his room. She didn't want to think about how these feelings had been brewing slowly, through tiny interactions they didn't notice until she felt the call of a lonely aria drifting down 22nd street.

"Maybe later, Doll."

"Later then," she agreed, leaning into his hand.

But when was later? There was tomorrow. And the day after. But that was it. Afterwards she would return to her life of rigorous training and he would go back to clawing his way to the top. She was too drunk to fight the thought, her attempt of pushing down the hollow feeling just resulted in it slipping away. It was only the fact that he was there now, painfully present that kept her from crying.

Hermione kissed him, because there was nothing else to do. She scratched down his back and pulled up his shirt because it pulled a sound out of him that made her feel strong and wanted. She quieted his protest when she pulled him on top of her because she wanted a chance to fill her mind with a lifetime's worth of memories even though they only had three days.

000000000000000000000000000

They woke late, tangled together with their skin flush. His wrist bone dug into her neck and her elbow was certainly jabbing at his ribs. But the smile on his sleeping face made it clear that he didn't care.

It took her a moment to realize that there was no music. Her neighbor was so reliable with her morning mariachi she hadn't set an alarm in years. When she shifted against his chest his arms pulled her closer, his fingers dancing along the skin of her shoulder blades in the dim light filtering in from the window. She looked at the clock on her microwave only for the green analog letters to be completely missing. She sighed, the unusual quiet of the building letting her know it wasn't just the floor breaker. Thank god she had gas heat.

She worked herself from Fred's arms, missing the warmth the second she was away from it. An adorable frown pulled at his cheeks, even after she tucked the comforter back around his shoulders.

Hermione gathered the candles Harry had left, as if he were some kind of wizard who saw this coming. The snow was still falling heavily outside but with little enough wind she could see the blinking red stoplight. Other than that, the world was white.

She tried the light switch in the bathroom, wholly unsurprised when it merely clicked in response. Instead, she lit enough candles so that she could shut the door and still see before checking her phone's battery. She pulled it off the charger, relieved to find that it had charged enough to last a while.

When she unlocked the screen the bright backlight nearly blinded her.

George (10:16 am) How's my twin? I'm worried and Angelina is getting jealous.

Harry(5:32 am) Blackout across the whole borough. Bet those candles don't look so stupid now.

Gin (11:16 pm) I have changed my mind. Winter wedding is the way to go. Much more poetic that way.

Ron(3:42 am) i officially hate everyone. a sore throat is not worth a trip to the emergency room. why are these fucking idiots out in this.

Tonks(3:23pm) Harry is the best god-nefew-cousin i could evr ask 4

Tonks (3:59pm) afd u I loiv u. How do u feal bout a nautical theme. I lk crabcakes

Tonks (4:47 pm) shoe esjpif eijs heoi

Malfoy (7:23am) I expect you at the studio tomorrow to make up for all this nonsense. We will run through this until you collapse then I will drag your corpse across the floor anyway.

Hermione sent a response to Ron and Harry assuring them that they were appreciated. She ignored Ginny simply because she refused to sink to her level of absurdity. Rather than replying to the clearly hammered text from her boss she warned Remus to check on her. He was probably home with Teddy but was only half a block down and may be able to leave the toddler with Dromeda.

By the time she had jumped in the shower the water was steaming and warm. Hermione piled her hair into a clip at the top of her head and washed away the stickiness from between her legs. She had just rinsed off her body wash when the door cautiously opened. A low whistle echoed through the room.

"Romantic."

"Well you know me," Hermione hummed. "I live for romance."

"Mind if I join?" Fred asked.

"There isn't much room." Which was true. Most closets were bigger than her shower.

"Guess I'll just have to squeeze in next to you."

000Smut000

When the shower curtain opened he stared at her. The candle light flickered across his hair, giving it the appearance of burning flame. His eyes roved over her, lazily taking in every detail as the water ran down her back. After a few moments she pulled at his wrist drawing him in. She held him close, the water streaming down his shoulders before running down her chest.

"Hi," she murmured because it felt odd to just ogle him silently. He chuckled quietly.

"Hey."

Hermione bit her lip waiting for him to move or do something. Instead he just stared at her with a bemused smirk on his face. The urge to explore him was too great and her hand hovered just above the skin of his chest.

"Can I?"

"I think we have blown past the point where you need to ask to touch me." Fred laughed. It was warm and inviting. The sound surrounded her in comfort and joy, pulling her own giggle from her lips.

"I just haven't gotten a chance to really look at you is all."

"What? Haven't you ever seen a naked man before?" Fred questioned with one eyebrow raised.

"Of course… but this is different than a quick costume change."

"If you insist."

Fred leaned back against the plastic wall of the shower, his hair darkened to maroon as little strands plastered themselves to his neck. He crossed his arms with a feral confidence that had her feeling like she was on the one on display. She bit her lips as she glanced down, her eyes roving over the wide expanse of his chest.

Hermione ran her hands softly over his skin, feeling his pulse bounding just below the surface. They traced the chords of his muscles, the lean fibers twitching as her nail followed the path up his neck and back down the hollow of his throat. She pressed a bit too hard when she ran over his collar bone, her nail leaving a thin red strip blooming against his pale skin. He growled and she stilled her movements unsure of if it was a good or bad thing.

"Sorry. I'm still figuring this out."

"Explore away," he said. "We've got nothing but time."

"But what if-"

"Worry about the what-if's later. I'll stop you if you do something I don't like."

She nodded, trusting him not to make fun of her as her hands explored his skin. She wasn't a total prude. She had fooled around with boys in high school before her dancing got too serious.

None of them knew what they were doing but there was safety in that because it meant they couldn't laugh at her because she didn't either. They were all short lived couplings, built up in stolen moments where parents left to get pizza or what could be pulled off on a hike through the woods. Leisure was not something that had ever been afforded and so she savored the chance.

Fred was patient as her hands glided down his chest, even as she saw his cock straining against her. She brushed against his nipples watching the way the muscles in his chest shuddered in response to her touches. Her fingers danced down the side of his ribs, eliciting a ticklish exhale as she smiled. She bit her lip feeling slightly emboldened as her fingers followed the angle of his waist down to his hips, tracing over the bone with her thumb like he would do for her.

Hermione couldn't help but smile in satisfaction when his breathing picked up. Feeling no rush she dragged her fingers over the thin skin of his stomach, running up and down the ridges until his hands finally fell to his sides. Taking the opening she leaned against him, licking along the fading pink line her nail had made. He hissed and she felt his hands twitch against her thighs before falling slack.

Hermione licked and nibbled against the skin of his chest and neck, watching his face when the angle allowed for it. His eyes had drifted shut but every time her teeth raked along the smooth surface, his mouth pulled tight for a second. She cautiously bit at the base of his neck. When he moaned and his hands shot up to encircle her waist she smiled, licking her way up to his ear.

"I'm not sure how hard is too hard."

Fred panted against her shoulder, his breath somehow scalding compared to the water still hitting her back.

"Fuck it. No one cares if I'm covered in hickeys. Probably better for the image actually."

She took the moment to bite at the skin behind his ear, exhaling when his arms squeezed her a bit too firmly. Hermione worked her way back down his neck and chest, occasionally sucking at his skin and leaving a small trail of spaced out marks.

It was while she was bruising the skin of his chest that she gripped his length in her hand. He jumped and swore, his eyes shooting wide to stare at her. She pumped him experimentally until his eyes drifted shut again, his hips occasionally twitching toward her.

Feeling entirely in control and bold she dropped to her knees and gripped the base of his cock firmly. His hand rubbed the muscles of her shoulders before moving up the base of her neck. She stared at him, only the slightest bit apprehensive. This she was confident about, this she could do.

Hermione glanced up to find him watching her, a look of hunger in his eyes that had her shivering. She tentatively licked at the swollen tip, circling her tongue around him as he groaned and his eyes drifted shut. She took the momentary break in eye contact to slide him into her mouth as far as she could take him.

Fred dropped his head back against the wall with a thunk, his mouth forming a litany of curses that would have given her grandmother a heart attack. She hummed around him, working her tongue around his length as she pulled away.

Her mouth took him back in slowly and his fingertips buried themselves in her hair, knocking loose the clip as the partially contained curls cascaded around them. He groaned as they brushed against his skin, bucking deeply down her throat. She fought back the urge to gag and continued to lap at him, letting him set the pace to one he liked.

One hand gripped him tightly, pumping in time with her mouth. She slipped the other to cradle his sac, rolling the weight in her fingers. All too soon his fingers tightened and his thrusts grew shallow and more erratic. Taking back control she placed an arm across his hips to pin him against the wall without dropping the rhythm. One of his hands slapped against the wall, his nails scratching against it as he yanked back her head and shouted his release, her hand still pumping as thick streams of seed landed on her chest. With a few more weak thrusts he collapsed against the wall, sliding down on shaky legs. She adjusted to allow him room, straddling his lap as the water rained down on them. He panted heavily, eyes barely drifting open as she settled against him.

"Holy shit Hermione." He groaned, dragging his hands to rest against hers on his stomach. He eyed her chest hungrily and she felt him twitch against her. She laughed learning back into the spray to let it wash away his release and run through her hair properly. When she sat up straight again his eyes were dark and his hands gripped her hips almost painfully.

000smut end000

"In a bit," she purred, her voice slightly scratchy. "I think my neighbors may actually kill me if I manage to use all the hot water in the building."

"Yeah but-"

"There's still time, right?" she asked. Her voice hitched, something she would blame on overworked muscles. Fred paused for a second to run his hand down her cheek.

"Right. Lots of time." He nodded, sitting up and resting his head on her chest. His finger's twitched against her hands, as they always did when he lied.

Despite her previous statement they sat there for a while longer, until her knees started to ache and her fingers pruned. Still she traced her hand through the wet silk of his hair, cataloging the way his breath felt as it rushed over her heart and the way he held her as if he would never let go.

0000000000000000000000000000000

Because she was a masochist, Hermione broke out the nail polish. After a quick lunch of sandwiches she and Fred spent most of the afternoon dozing in between rounds of lazy kisses and her showing him embarrassingly bad home videos her father had sent her on what little charge was left on the laptop.

When it finally died she gave in, digging out the small box that held her three polishes. Hermione selected the baby pink and set about coloring her nails with clumsy strokes that resulted in more color on her skin than anywhere else. She resigned herself to rubbing acetone on her cuticles when Fred shifted next to her, taking the bottle from her.

"Let me." She raised her eyebrow in response but Fred just laughed. "Like I could do any worse than you have."

"I'll concede your point if you tell me why you even know I did a terrible job."

"Easy. I'm not blind." Hermione smacked his chest lightly before extending her hand in offering. He took it gingerly, balancing the polish on his knee as he dipped in the brush.

"You better not get polish on my sheets," she grumbled

"I'm a classically trained musician. I am nothing else if not steady in posture. Did I tell you about that one time me and George proved that in high school?"

He coated each nail perfectly, not a drop of color out of place.

"No."

"Well, we were performing a duet at a national competition in Carnegie hall. Great acoustics by the way. In any event we were halfway through the piece and we heard this massive crash somewhere behind us. Now, at these stuffed suit performances, everyone only gets one run through, no exceptions. Neither me or George flinched as we finished, even when some water puddled around our shoes. Turns out a fluorescent light had fallen and caught the curtain on fire. We didn't even notice until we stood to bow and saw the audience evacuating."

"You're kidding,'' she gasped as he paused to blow on her fingers. His breath tickled across her knuckles.

"Dead serious. However the judges remained to the finish, though one of those penguins marked us off for not bowing properly."

"What a dick."

"That's what I said! Mom was not happy about that specific language though."

She smiled softly as he started a second coat on her other hand, fixing her patchy work. As soon as he had finished he grabbed her bottle of acetone and a q-tip, wiping away the pink lacquer from her skin. While he worked he told her about the time he and George had swapped instruments when playing a charity benefit.

"I had no idea you could play the cello!"

"Almost as well as my brother." He smiled, setting her hand down and twisting the cap on the remover. "It wasn't until three years later when we ran into an ancient concertmaster from Japan that anyone called us out on it. He thought it was very amusing."

"I'm sure he did." She smiled as he ran his calloused thumb down her wrist.

"Fred?"

"Hm?" he questioned, still staring at her hands.

"Why did you know how to paint nails?"

He smiled weakly.

"There was a time when I was twelve where I was sick of being a matched set. I loved George but we were the same person to so many people. Twin geniuses in our art, unable to even be separated when switched places. So I quit."

"Performing?" Hermione asked.

"No, the violin." She blinked slowly, fighting off the rant on the tip of her tongue.

"I decided I wanted to be a painter," Fred continued. "Mom was upset of course, but dad talked her down and got me an art set that Christmas. I painted until they ran out then I did work around the neighborhood until I could buy more. George looked miserable to be playing alone but I figured he would get used to it."

"What happened?"

"Obviously I couldn't stay away. I loved the music too damn much. It helped that I was absolute garbage at art." Fred frowned deeply, dropping his hand to rub at her calf until she fell back into the pillows groaning. "Not that it mattered of course. Even when I entered something for the local fair I couldn't shake what I was. I hid under the table cloth waiting to hear what people said about my creation."

"Bad?"

"Worse. They didn't even see it. They just saw my name," Fred sighed. The bitterness in his tone instantly infuriated her but there was no one to direct that anger at. "Every person who approached it all said the same thing. 'Well he can't be great at everything',' 'I wonder when he will be back.' and 'He should really just stick to music.'... I went home before the grading happened and threw out all my supplies. They sent me a blue ribbon I didn't earn in the mail the next week and I fed it to the pigs."

"Fred," Hermione sat up, unable to run her hand through his hair without messing up his work. Instead she nudged him with her foot until he looked at her.

"It's fine," he said. He folded his hands in his lap, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. Even when he was miserable, it was like his face didn't know any other way to be.

"Ginny noticed even though she was so young. When I went back to playing and it all got too much she would climb into my bed at night with her shitty Barbie brand glitter polish and ask me to paint her nails. The first few times I just did it to shut her up. After that it sort of became tradition."

"But she's not with you two anymore."

"She doesn't have to be. I grew up." Fred gazed out of the dimming window, the weak light catching the flash of wetness in his eyes before he blinked it away. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight to her body. She could feel him smiling against her forehead as he kissed it. But she suddenly didn't trust that smile as easily as she once did.

"Not that I don't love it," she hummed against his chest, "but why are you telling me all of this?"

He stiffened slightly before wrapping his arm around her back, holding her in place as he sighed.

"I just want you to remember me when this is all over."

She swore she could feel her heart crack in her chest.

"Fred I-"

"I know, I know. Just a few days."

Hermione pushed them back against the bed, careful to retain the effort he had put into her nails. She settled against his chest, a smile she didn't quite feel tugging at her lips.

"I could never forget this."

She sunk low, molding her body against his as naturally as breathing.