A/N: I am so so so ultra uber sorry for the laaaaaaaaate update! I've been so caught up with school work and being sick (actually I went through a coughing fit writing the end of this) that I just had NO TIME. I don't think I've done this very well because I rushed to finish it, but I hope it'll be okay, at least until the next chapter. And don't worry - this isn't the end! There is Drama coming up!
Thank you to my reviewers: cherryweasley1998, smc1214, lknights91, thebedazzlingmasqueradegirl, Lunarox67, XxBlackShadowMagicxX, Evil People's Underwear (LOVE THE USERNAME!) and PoppiiD. Thanks also to everyone to favourited or alerted!
R&R!
Disclaimer: Na, bo.
"Fred! I need more Gabbing Gum over here!"
When no answer was heard, she stomped over to the lab and yanked the door open. "Fred Weasley!" The boy in question jerked awake guiltily, to find an annoyed Hermione giving him a serpentine glare.
"Gabbing Gum?" she requested menacingly.
Fred smothered a grin with a yawn as he turned to fetch the gum from the storeroom. Hermione had been working at the shop for two weeks and was already so familiar with the place that she regularly screeched at Fred and George for not doing something they were supposed to.
"Here you are, then," he said with a lazy smile, the box of Gabbing Gum in his arms. "Need me to carry it in for you?"
"Yes please," she replied, eyeing the heavy box.
The two walked in comparative silence to the door of the lab, whereupon Hermione, softening slightly, rested her hand on Fred's arm to stop him from walking out. "What time did you get to sleep last night?"
"I dunno," Fred replied, smothering another yawn. "Late."
"Wow. I hadn't figured that out by myself," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. Fred grinned down at her, motioning with his chin for her to open the door as both his hands were occupied with carrying the box of gum.
"Why were you up so late?" Hermione asked.
Fred faltered. "I…er… I had a good product idea."
Hermione was intrigued. "Really?" Levitating the box out of Fred's arms and onto a shelf, she walked with him back to the lab. "Tell me!"
He winced. He'd been up late because he'd spent half the night sitting by his window and wondering whether he was losing it. Since Hermione had started work in the shop, he'd been taking more and more notice of weird things he wouldn't normally take note of – the way her shoes complimented her legs, the fall of her almost knee-length robes (semi-tight bodice and a flared skirt), how her hair would gradually get frizzier as the day wore on. It was doing his head in.
"Er… later," he said hastily, scooting into the lab and shutting the door in a surprised Hermione's face. He slid down the door to the floor, dazed. Now he'd actually have to come up with a product idea… He thumped himself on the forehead for being so dim-witted.
Sighing, he trudged back to his table and set to work, outlining a list of ideas for new products.
It was past closing time before Fred felt confident enough in his idea to emerge from the lab. Yawning widely for what felt like the thousandth time that day, he entered the shop area – and almost as soon as he had entered, he wished he hadn't.
Ordinarily, he would have been happy to see Lee Jordan, who had been one of his best mates since his first year at Hogwarts. Especially since the man in question, what with his wildly popular WWN station, rarely had the time to stop by at the shop.
It normally wouldn't even bother him when the guy was leaning against the counter, a familiar, flirtatious smile on his face as he chatted up a pretty bird. Just that, in this instance, the pretty bird happened to be his Hermione.
Your Hermione? Back up, Freddie boy.
"Fred!" Lee exclaimed when Fred rounded the corner, face like thunder. "Or are you George, I've never been able to tell."
Hermione laughed, twirling her wand between her fingers. "That's Fred," she assured him, tapping the cash register with the wand. It sprung open; golden Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts clinked quietly. Jabbing the wand at a piece of parchment, paper and a quill flew up and began to write up the accounts for the day.
"I've never understood how you can do that," Fred frowned as he absentmindedly returned Lee's hug.
"What? An accounting spell?" Hermione said disbelievingly. "It's very simple magic… a first-year could pick it up. I've even modified it – when I was in the consultancy business with Hardy and Hardy, I changed the spell so not only would it take accounts, it would suggest courses of action depending on the state of accounts."
"You're brilliant, you are," Lee and Fred chorused in unison, starry-eyed.
Hermione simply blushed at the attention and turned back to the parchment. "You've made a good amount of profit today, Fred," she said slowly. Fred watched her warily; where was she going with this? "Any plans as to what you're going to use it for? Not something so mundane as taking your beautiful, talented friend Hermione (whose shop assistant skills, incidentally, have helped your sales skyrocket) out for drinks, I presume?"
Fred grinned at the lengthy, typically Hermione sentence for a moment before her words registered. He swallowed, hoping it wasn't audible. He knew, of course, that Hermione meant it in a friendly way, but his breath came faster nevertheless.
Lee looked from one to the other calculatingly. He seemed to understand what was going on in Fred's head, which unnerved him, because he didn't.
"Yeah, go on, Fred," Lee encouraged. "I've been wanting to talk to George about something anyway." Hermione glanced at Fred, waiting for the verdict. Lee winked while her attention was diverted.
"Up for it?" Fred asked her, grinning. Bless you, Lee.
"Definitely. Give me a minute to change?" she requested.
"Absolutely," he agreed. "I'll come to your place in ten minutes. That ok?"
Beaming at him, she Apparated away.
Heart thumping somewhere near his Adam's apple, Fred hurried upstairs and changed into a pair of dark Muggle jeans and a green shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and rushed out again, not bothering to check his hair in the mirror.
The next eight minutes were spent tidying up the shop. He whirled around Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in the manner of a particularly vindictive tornado, his attempt to tidy the shop totally bombing in his nervousness.
Precisely ten minutes after Hermione had left, he Apparated to her flat and knocked on the door. Hermione answered, earrings in hand.
"Oh, right on time," she said in an impressed voice. "Give me a second."
She slipped her earrings in and Fred surveyed her appearance. She wore a casual, yet elegant shirt-and-top combo - the skirt high-waisted and a silky green tank top. She slipped on the black ballet flats parked beside the door and stepped outside to join Fred.
"You look nice," he said as nonchalantly as he could.
"Thanks. So do you," she replied easily. "Shall we?"
Fred exaggeratedly offered her his arm. She took it with a laugh and they spun on the spot, reappearing in a dark alley somewhere along Selwyn Drive. Music could be heard blaring from a club nearby and they gravitated towards it, drawn by the thumping bass, even though it had not been Fred's original destination.
The music grew louder and louder as they drew nearer to the club and they stepped inside with a feeling of having come up from underwater. Hermione broke into an exhilarated grin, her legs already starting to move to the beat.
"Drinks or dancing first?" Fred asked her.
"Dancing," Hermione said immediately. Taking his hand, she wove her way onto the crowded dance floor, slipping sinuously through the gaps between one dancer and the next.
Seeming not to need a partner at all, Hermione turned a hipped circle – and stopped face-to-face with Fred. Smiling softly, he placed his hands on her waist and they danced, swirling together, spinning apart. The dance was not, perhaps, suited to Muggle clubbing but soon others noticed them and followed their example.
One hour later, a laughing Hermione stumbled to the bar, Fred in tow. Summoning the bartender, Fred ordered shots for the two of them – for after all, as he reminded Hermione, the night was still young.
"It's a bad habit, you know," Hermione slurred an hour later.
"What is?" Fred asked, amused. He was just a tiny bit tipsy and he was having fun talking to a drunk Hermione. Five men had approached her already and as she got progressively more and more drunk, her method of rejection became more and more entertaining. The first one she had turned down with a gracious 'No, thank you'. The fifth, however, received a bizarre cough/yawn/sneeze and a drunken, "Fuck no."
"Me drinking with you… and that other ginger person. Forge or whatever his name is. I always get too dwunk. I'm sure it's your fault," she accused, jabbing in Fred's direction with the neck of the bottle she was drinking from.
"How can it be my fault? You have embarrassingly low tolerance for alcohol," Fred quipped.
"I – I do not!" Hermione spluttered indignantly. Swaying to her feet, she tottered over to where Fred was sitting – and promptly fell, the heel of her shoe giving way. She fell with a thump that was drowned out by a violent guitar riff.
Bursting into peals of laughter, Fred crossed to where she had fallen. "Up you get," he chuckled, hauling her to her feet.
"That hurt," she pouted. Fred guffawed again; who would've know that Hermione Granger was such an entertaining drunk?
"Want to go home?" he asked, his arm around her waist to support her. He felt hot and cold all over from being this close to her – something he hadn't felt since he was fourteen and asked a girl out for the first time.
Hermione yawned widely. "Yes please." And she fell asleep.
Deciding it was better not to wake her, Fred scooped the sleeping girl up and exited the club, walking quickly down the deserted street and into the alley they had arrived in.
"Scourus," Fred muttered, aiming his wand at Hermione. She jerked awake as the sobering spell worked its unpleasant effects. It was an uneasy feeling, that of having alcohol scoured from inside your bloodstream.
"What was that for?" she scowled.
"Friends don't let friends Apparate drunk," Fred quoted.
"Heard of Side-Along?" Hermione questioned grumpily.
Fred smiled slyly. "Where's the fun in that?"
She simply groaned in response. "I'm too washed out to Apparate home in any case," she moaned. "Tired. And sobering spells always make me feel awful."
Fred considered this. "Want to kip at the flat, then?" he suggested.
"Yes, that'd be lovely," she replied gratefully, grasping his arm. He spun on the spot, pushing them both into the crushing darkness and out the other end into the flat above WWW.
Slightly uncoordinated as she was at the moment, Hermione stumbled, catching hold of Fred in a wild attempt to break her fall. The duo tumbled into the door, the wood cracking against Hermione's shoulder blades with a painful thud. She closed her eyes, willing the pain in her back to disappear.
When she opened them again, her gaze was met by a bright blue pair of eyes, concern shining in their cerulean depths. "You okay?" Fred asked worriedly.
"I will be," she assured him, right before it dawned on her just how close they were standing.
This same thing seemed to occur to Fred, who suddenly froze against her, his eyes darting nervously from her eyes to her nose to her lips to her forehead.
"Hermione?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes?" she breathed.
"Can I… can I kiss you?"
As soon as the words were out, Fred felt like thumping himself on the forehead with a Beater's bat. 'Can I kiss you'? Have you gone bonkers? his inner demon taunted.
But the inner demon was suddenly squashed underneath Fred's pounding heart as Hermione reached up on tiptoes and kissed him.
It was a beautiful kiss, sweet and simple and happiness-inducing. Fred felt glad that he'd cast the sobering charm, for otherwise the kiss would not have been nearly as perfect.
He pulled away for a second, only to duck in and kiss her again. Twice more he kissed her, each kiss chaste and heart-stoppingly sweet. The fourth kiss was barely a brush of lips, their eyes meeting as they held each other close.
"Shall we go in, then?" Fred asked, his voice cracking, breaking the intense silence.
Hermione turned the doorknob and stepped backwards into the flat. "We shall."