Chapter Seven
BANG!
Hermione jumped. She was used to hearing explosions of various kinds from the lab but this one rocked the stool she had been sitting on behind the shop counter and caused several boxes to fall from the shelves.
Even more concerning was the howl of pain that followed it. She flew down the stairs and froze in horror. The room was filled with smoke and Fred was struggling to his feet, his face covered in blood.
"Fred!" Hermione raced to his side. "What happened?!"
Fred coughed and squinted. "Apparently I need to adjust the timer on those fuses a bit."
She led him to the sofa and gently helped him down before grabbing a white box from under the workbench.
"What's that?"
Hermione answered without looking up, "First Aid Kit."
"Since when do we have a first aid kit?"
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Since I started here. I have met you before."
"Can't you just heal it with magic?"
"I will but since I am not sure what all you had on that bench when it blew up I want to make sure those cuts get properly cleaned out first. No good closing a wound if there is something toxic inside of it."
She pulled out 3 small glass vials and a tiny cauldron and began mixing.
"What's in that?" He asked warily.
"A portable all purpose disinfectant potion I developed when I was on the run with Harry and Ron. Three simple ingredients that counteract most contaminants. We never knew what might get thrown at us or what we might have handy to work with, but this usually seemed to do the trick."
Fred looked genuinely impressed. "You really are brilliant, you know that?"
Hermione sighed. "Always the tone of surprise..."
She took a clean cloth from the kit and dipped it into the mixture before reaching for a spot on Fred's forehead. Before she even touched him, he flinched and jerked away.
She stopped. "What? I need to clean this, Fred."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I...I'm funny about people putting stuff around my eyes. Makes me nervous."
She leaned back and thought for a moment. "How about this? You close your eyes and I will tell you a story to distract you while I clean it up."
He looked doubtful. "What kind of story?"
She considered this. It would have to be something good to get him to agree. She made a decision and took a deep breath.
"A true story. One I never told anyone else - not even Harry." She could tell that she had his attention now. "I will tell you why I am afraid of heights."
Fred contemplated this. Information about people was always useful. He nodded. "Deal."
"All right. Close your eyes." She waited for him to comply, then dabbed his forehead. He winced. "Sorry."
She cleared her throat. "So, I was 5 - maybe 6 - years old. My bedroom was on the second floor and if I sat in just the right spot on the bed I could look out the window and watch a robin building its nest on the drainpipe at the corner of the house. I became fascinated and would sit for hours observing. It was the closest thing to a pet that I was allowed to have."
She continued cleaning the wounds. "Then one day I was over the moon to realize that the robin had laid eggs. Soon they hatched and I spent days watching her feed and take care of them. I was utterly fascinated."
She sighed. "One morning I was waiting for her to come back and feed the babies. I was watching her flying towards the nest when she was grabbed by a hawk."
Fred winced again but this time it was not because of the disinfectant. "Blimey, Hermione. That must have been horrible."
She nodded. "It was. After the initial shock wore off I became terrified that the hawk would come back for the little ones. Rather than going to get my parents, as I ought to have done, I decided to take matters into my own hands."
She took a balm from the kit and began applying it to the areas she had just cleaned. "I opened the window and began crawling out along the gutter. I thought if I could bring the nest into my room then it would be safe."
Fred interrupted. "HOW old were you again?"
Hermione chuckled. "Five or six. Anyway, I made it almost all the way there and was reaching out when I lost my balance and fell."
Fred's eyes shot open. "Bloody hell! How badly were you hurt?"
"Thankfully the hedgerow broke my fall. I sprained my wrist and fractured a couple of ribs. The worst injury was from a large stem of the bush I landed on - it punctured through my back but luckily missed any organs or major arteries."
She untucked her blouse and lifted it a little above her waist line, twisting to reveal a circular scar approximately an inch in diameter. He stared at it for a moment before Hermione dropped the shirt and reached for her wand.
"Right. Close your eyes again and I can finish healing up those wounds."
Fred did as he was told and soon felt a cooling sensation over his face.
"Okay. All done."
He opened his eyes and Hermione handed him a mirror. "Acceptable?"
"Very. Thank you." He paused. "So what happened to the baby birds?"
She smiled, touched that he thought to ask about them. "By the time I got home from hospital they were gone. I prefer to think that they flew away somewhere and started happy little families of their own." She began to put away the contents of the kit. "As for me, however, since that day the thought of being more than a few inches off the ground without firm support is not one that I relish."
Fred looked at her thoughtfully. "And yet you still do it."
Hermione stopped what she was doing and glanced up with a confused expression. "Pardon?"
"You are frightened of heights yet if one of your friends is in trouble you don't hesitate to help even if it means climbing on a broom or a thestral or a bloody dragon. You are still shimmying out on drainpipes to help your little chicks when the hawks are near, regardless of the risk to your own life."
Hermione stared at him. She had never thought of herself in that light before.
He smiled warmly. "No wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor. You may have a Ravenclaw brain and a Hufflepuff heart but with that kind of courage there was really no other place for you to be."
She felt a tear well up. She had always struggled with the idea that she wasn't brave enough to be a true Gryffindor. She managed to whisper a quiet "Thank you" before inhaling sharply and quickly turning her attention back to the job at hand. "Right. Let's begin cleaning up the rest of this mess then we can recalculate that fuse length, shall we?"
He nodded, rose from the sofa and started back towards the workbench, all the while wondering what else there was to learn about Hermione Granger.
A few days later Fred was on his way to Gringott's when he checked his pockets and realized he had forgotten one of the envelopes he needed. Thankfully he had not gotten too far down the sidewalk or else he might not have turned back for it. He re-entered the shop and headed towards the office behind the register when he stopped short.
A strange noise was coming from the lab downstairs. Fred walked quietly towards the door. He heard music and…. singing? He eased down the first couple of steps and knelt to peer in surprise at the sight unfolding before him.
Hermione was in the middle of the room, her back to him, swaying her hips in time to the music and swinging her hair side to side as she sang along to a male voice coming out of the small radio she had apparently pulled from her bag.
He recognized the device as one that his father had helped her with a long time ago, creating a spell that would allow her to tune in a local muggle station so she could keep up with any news that might pertain to her parents and also enjoy the occasional music program.
She turned suddenly and Fred started to pull back to avoid being seen before he noticed her eyes were closed and that she was completely lost in the moment.
Do you remember when we used to sing?
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Just like that
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
La dee dah
Part of him wanted to jump out and surprise her but he hesitated. This was a whole new side of Hermione and he wanted to enjoy the show for a while longer. His grin widened when he realized that she was now pretending to dance with someone, holding her arms out, being twirled around by an imaginary partner.
He almost interrupted at that point, thinking he would swoop in and spin her once himself when he suddenly became aware of the lyrics she was now singing along with:
So hard to find my way
Now that I'm all on my own
I saw you just the other day
My, how you have grown!
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometime I'm overcome thinking about
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium
With you, my brown-eyed girl
You, my brown-eyed girl
The total abandon that accompanied her dance moves when she started singing about making love in the green grass took him aback, making him more than slightly jealous of whoever she was picturing in her head as she continued swaying about the room. He felt a flush come over his face as his heart rate increased and what seemed to be a herd of hippogriffs began doing their own dance in his stomach.
The music soon began to fade out and another song started up. Her back was once more towards him so he took advantage of the moment and silently backed up the stairs and out of the shop, leaving her with her music.
He made a mental note to ask Harry about this muggle song later.
A couple of days later, he met up with Harry at the Three Broomsticks. Harry read over the partial lyrics Fred had hastily scrawled on the back of an envelope.
"Oh, yeah. I know this one. Song's called Brown-Eyed Girl. It's by an Irish bloke named Van Morrison." He handed the paper back to Fred with a grin. "Birds with brown eyes go mental for it."
Fred looked up from the notes he was making regarding the title and artist. "Really? Why?"
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Guess because writers tend to go on and on about girls with blue eyes or green eyes but not so much brown. Then this guy comes along and puts out a song about how much he loves a girl with brown eyes. Maybe they all think it's about them?"
Fred nodded, tucking the paper in his jacket for future reference.