Forgotten Birthday (344)
It was well past the curfew and Fred was making his way to the kitchens when he heard someone sobbing in an empty classroom. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, instantly recognising the mass of bushy, brown hair.
"Hermione?" he asked. "What happened?"
The second-year looked up. "N-nothing," she stuttered, though the expressions on her face told something totally different.
Tentatively, Fred stepped forward and slung his arm on the girl's shoulders. "You know, Ron and Harry may be your best friends, but I am your friend, too."
Probably unknowingly, she leaned her head onto his shoulder. "It was my—b-birthday today—a-and neither of my—f-friends—wished me," she said, still sobbing.
"Ah," Fred said, "Happy Birthday, then." Tugging onto her hand, he pulled her up. "Let's go," he said.
"Where?" she asked.
Fred grinned. "To teach you the art of pranking. And giving you a chance to celebrate your birthday with celebrities!"
"But won't that mean breaking rules?" Hermione asked, horrified at the very thought.
"Not unless we get caught." Before she could protest further, Fred steered her out of the room.
Stopping by an armour, he whispered, "Psst, George, are you ready?"
"Yes, Freddie. And is that Lee?"
"No. Hermione."
Silence.
Then, "What?" George leapt out from behind the suit of armour, as if to check if his twin was joking. Noticing the girl standing there, though, his mouth fell wide open.
"The birthday girl is ready to learn the art of pranking, George," Fred said. "And why were you yelling?"
"Filch is on the top of the North Tower," George said.
"He fell for our plan, again?"
"Yes, brother," George replied. Meanwhile, Hermione stared from one brother to the other, trying to make out what they were saying.
Suddenly, Fred wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her behind a trapdoor. "Filch's cat," he whispered, his soft breath tickling her skin. Hermione shuddered but felt warmly relaxed in that pair of arms, eager now to spend her best birthday ever.