Hermione stared down at her orange juice, absorbed in the pulpy liquid and her thoughts. Fred hadn't been home all day since he began taking double shifts. This started a week ago, when they had woken up in each other's arms…and Fred had been holding her hand…

Her chest was rising and falling evenly with every breath she took, the smallest of happy smiles placed delicately on her lips. He couldn't help but marble at how contagious her mood was; in a matter of moments, he too shifted his back up against his pillow, one arm tracing her fingers, the other resting in her hair as it spun around a few loose strands. They felt like silk as they ran between his fingertips, and he smiled.

Oh dear God, why did this have to happen? She wasn't actually supposed to like the guy! She'd only married him because of a law anyways. It's not like she wanted the arrangement, no matter how she felt about it now. Still, Hermione refused to go anywhere near the "L" word. I am not in love with Fred Weasley. I am not in love with Fred Weasley. She would think this statement to herself with full-on determination, her mind set on making it true…or at least believable. Sighing, Hermione finally picked up her orange juice, which should have been easy. However, she had, seemingly, poured all her thoughts into the glass, making it seem one hundred pounds heavier. Quietly, she slowly tipped it into the sink, allowing the juice to pour out and down the drain.

Fred opened the door just as Hermione closed the door to the bathroom. He heard it, muffled by the rest of the hallways and stairs between them. It seemed like an endless stretch of emptiness stood in the house. He and she barely ever spoke, except the occasional hello or good luck at work. Sighing as well, he fell back onto the sofa and glanced at the clock. It was seven p.m., the usual time he got home from the late shifts he had been taking. Hermione would be upstairs, showering. After that, she'd settle in her bed (strictly on the farthest side of the room) and read until he came up from his Quidditch matches that were on some Wizard Sports Network. When he got upstairs, she'd maybe smile at him briefly before turning off her light and trying to go to sleep.

In truth, she never did sleep. It sounded scary, but she'd lay awake and just listen to his existence. The way he whistled in the shower; soft enough so that he wouldn't 'wake' her up, but loud enough for her to make out a melody. And when he got out of the shower, he'd brush his teeth. Hermione could hear the beep on the timer that made him brush for two minutes. Then, she'd hear him spit and sigh before the door would open. Then, he'd get changed silently, but the ruffling of clothes still reached her eager ears. The entire time, she was turned towards her wall, her eyes wide open.

Fred turned the TV on, nodding barely when he heard the shower begin to run. This routine was making him sick; he missed talking to Hermione. Truly, he did enjoy her company. He tried to refocus on the game, but it was a recap on last night's match anyways. So, with a rejected breath, he clicked the TV off and went upstairs, not knowing what else to do.

He opened the door to their bedroom wearily and absent-mindedly. At first, he didn't hear it, or just thought it was his imagination, but a moment later, the sound came again. The softest of whimpers could be heard through the muffling of the door and the shower. Fred's eyebrows knitted together as he cautiously stepped over to the bathroom door. Hesitating for a moment, he finally reached his fist up and knocked quietly.

"Hermione?" He called softly, not wanting to scare her. The whimpers stopped immediately, replaced by sniffling.

"Yes Fred?" She called back in as much of a normal tone as she could manage. Fred winced slightly at the pain and exhaustion in her voice.

"Are you alight? Were you crying?" He asked, pushing himself closer to the door to hear her better. She responded, but he didn't hear it over the shower.

"Could you turn off the shower?" He called. A moment later, the water stopped. "Thanks, now, what did you say?" He continued. Another sniff sounded.

"I just said that I was fine." Hermione called back. Fred rolled his eyes.

"Well, obviously you weren't, otherwise you wouldn't be crying." He accused. The door opened swiftly and a red-eyed Hermione stood on her tip-toes to glare at him.

"I was not crying!" She snapped. Fred raised his eyebrows. He couldn't help but notice how close she was too him, especially when she pushed herself up higher. Her nose was a few inches from his, and her hands were mere centimeters from his own fingers. He could smell her minty breath on his face, cooling, yet giving him a blush that he shouldn't have. Hermione didn't seem to notice any of this however, but she still set herself down on her feet and walked past him, huffing mildly. Fred turned and looked at her oddly as she walked over to her bed and began to pull back the blankets. Clearly, she had never undressed for the shower.

"I'm not working late tomorrow, so I was wondering-" He began.

"I am. I've got the night shift at the department." Hermione interjected quickly. Fred's shoulders slumped and he paled slightly.

"Oh, I was just thinking we could go to dinner or something." He said quietly. Truthfully, he was kind of hurt by Hermione swift rejection. Hermione glanced up at him, a quizzical look on her face as though she hadn't been expecting that answer.

"Oh…well, I suppose I could cancel. Georgia, my boss, wouldn't mind anyway. Yeah, dinner sounds fine. Where are we going?" She asked crawling under the comforter and snuggling up to her pillow, looking at Fred with earnest eyes. Fred smiled and echoed her actions.

"I was just thinking the Leaky Cauldron or something casual. We don't need to make a fuss, right?" He asked, smiling fully now for the first time in a few weeks. Hermione returned it and nodded.

"Yeah. Looking forward to it. Let's say…six?" She asked before reaching up to her lamp switch, waiting for his answer. Fred ran through his schedule tomorrow through his head. After a moment, he nodded.

"Sounds good. G'night!" He said happily, clicking off his own lamp. And when darkness fell, he couldn't see the smile and the slight rose-color that spread through Hermione cheeks as she too clicked off her lamp.

"Goodnight Fred."

……….

Five thirty p.m. the next day arrived quicker than Hermione anticipated. She was sitting in the living room with a random book in her lap when she took a glance at the clock. Then she took a double-take at the time.

Scurrying upstairs, she whipped open her closet doors in a rush, her book long forgotten on the couch downstairs. Fred had said he was going to pick her up after work at six o-clock sharp. As in, if you're a moment late, I'm leaving without you.

Hermione literally ran through the shower, going so far as to hex her hair to smell nicer, clean easier, and dry faster. Then, with a flick of her wand, the curls were straightened and flowing down past her chest just below her breasts. Smiling in the mirror for a moment, she flew back into her room and to her closet.

……..

Fred pulled the car into the driveway and honked once, knowing Hermione would hear it. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, straightening his jacket for moment. He had put on quite the show at the shop as he tried to put on his jeans and white polo while trying his hardest to wash off some purple powder that had exploded on his face. Flipping down the mirror, he could still see a small speck of purple on the bridge of his nose…

"What are you doing?" Hemione's voice asked him, and with a small yell, he banged against the seat, earning a hearty laugh from her end. She was standing outside the door but hadn't gotten inside yet, though the door was wide open as she took in his appearance, smiling as she did so. Fred smiled at her straightened hair and took in the jean skirt and white tee-shirt. Perfect.

"You ready or not?" He asked, changing the subject as quickly as he could. Hermione nodded and happily bounced into her seat, buckled her seat belt and smiled at him. Fred turned back to the front and put the car in gear before Hermione did something very odd.

She leaned over and promptly kissed his cheek, blushing like crazy. But there was something even more mad going on…he was blushing and smiling just as insanely.