Chapter Title: 2 - You're Only Young Once
Characters: Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger, Viktor Krum
Description: Set during GoF. Hermione Granger fumes in the entrance hall after a row with her best friend, Ron. Fred Weasley stumbles upon her, frustrated with his own problems. Hermione learns a secret about the twins and Fred convinces Hermione to be brave.
Word Count: 2,490
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Sounds of music, shouting, and laughter filtered out of the large, open oak doors of the Great Hall. The Yule Ball was still in full swing, much to the disgust of Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasley, as if he had all the right in the world, had just accused her (her!) of abandoning him and Harry for the Bulgarian Quidditch star, just because she'd agreed to be Krum's date. As if Ron had any claim to her at all just because they were friends, just because he'd asked her at the last minute, as a bloody last resort, to be his own date to the ball. No. Hermione knew, with her typically bushy brown hair, slight figure, and studious nature, she wasn't usually the prettiest girl in the room, knew she didn't really hold a candle to girls like Lavender or Parvati or even Ginny, but she was most certainly not going to be anyone's last resort, especially not Ronald bloody Weasley. She might not be stunningly beautiful, or generally care that much about her looks, but she certainly had a healthy dose of self-respect.
Grinding her teeth, Hermione sat heavily upon the Grand Staircase. She dropped her perfectly coiffed head into her hands, wavering between crying in hurt and frustration, and seething in self-righteous fury at the ginger-haired menace. She had just finished another bout of crying, and was angrily swiping at her traitorous tears, while mentally categorizing the most humiliating hexes she knew versus how much trouble she might get in for inflicting them upon another student, when the sound of a throat clearing caused her head to snap up in alarm.
Standing several steps below her, looking purposefully disheveled with his hands shoved deep into pockets, tie unknotted, and shirt untucked, was Fred Weasley, older brother to Undesirable Number One, and her secret confidant. Hermione's red-rimmed brown eyes widened in surprise.
"Fred!" she said forcibly cheerful, plastering on an obviously fake smile. She glanced around a moment, her smile drooping. "Where's Angelina?"
Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "Off snogging George behind some tapestry, I suspect," he said, climbing the last few stairs that separated them and plopping down beside her. He tossed his head, effectively removing a lock of orange hair from in front of his hazel eyes, before leveling those same eyes on her expectantly.
Hermione stared back at him, confusion written plainly on her face. "But I thought she was your date?" she asked slowly, uncertainly, worried how she'd managed to mess that up.
Fred snorted again, his gaze dropping to his clasped hands resting between his knees. "She is. Well, I mean, I asked her," he confirmed with a nod of his head. He looked back to her, his expression guarded. "But George and me, we switched."
Hermione blinked hard, her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"
"Now, now, Granger. What's with the judgy tone?" Fred rubbed awkwardly at the red flush on the back of his neck. Dropping his hand, he sighed. "Well, as it so happens, George was a might bit upset about me asking Angelina to the ball. Turns out he fancies her, too."
Hermione looked at him appalled. "So you're sharing her? Does she know?"
Fred laughed humorlessly. "I think she suspects," he muttered. Catching Hermione's furious glare, he held up his hands placatingly. "Easy there, Granger. And we're not sharing. Not the way you're imagining at any rate," he mumbled the last.
Her eyes narrowed threateningly, her hand inching toward her wand.
Fred bristled, sneering at her. "What sort of depraved git do you take me for? It isn't like I bloody well engaged her and then passed her on over. I escorted her, we danced a few times, then George and I switched. Honest. It was as innocent as that."
Anger abating, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. Critical brown eyes scanned his face for any sign of duplicity and, finding none, softened. "So it isn't just some prank."
It wasn't a question but Fred shook his head anyway, a frown deepening across his freckled face.
Unaccustomed to seeing Fred in such a state, she took a moment to study him. He sat stiffly next to her, elbows on his bouncing knees, jaw set in a tense line. Hermione hesitated only a moment before leaning over and bumped shoulders with him. Warmth bloomed in her chest when a small, reluctant smile crept on his face at the contact. An answering smile graced her painted lips before falling into a concerned scowl. "I still don't understand why."
Frown returning, Fred scrubbed his face with his hands. A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" he muttered.
Indignation chased the flash of hurt across her face. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in a huff, crossing her arms and leaning away from him as if he might bite.
Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "It means I didn't like Ange near enough to cause a problem with George. She wasn't worth it for me."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh. Besides, I'm fairly certain Ange thought I was George when she said yes." A genuine smirk played at his lips then and he shot her an amused sideways glance. "Can you believe that, Granger? Someone mixing up me and George?"
"Can't fathom the possibility," she said, lips quirked in a suppressed grin.
"Right?! It's not as if we're completely identical. I mean, obviously, my favorite color is green while Georgie-boy prefers blue." Fred sighed heavily, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I could have sworn everyone knew that," he muttered.
Eyes dancing, Hermione bit her lip to smother a giggle. "Really, Fred? Green? How very Slytherin of you."
Fred blinked at her, stunned, before breaking into a devious grin. "Oh no. You get that blasphemy right out of your head, Granger. I do not like Slytherin green." He shuddered to prove his point.
"You said green," she sniffed haughtily, tossing her lightly freckled nose in the air. "I only made the logical conclusion."
Fred smirked. "Logical? Hardly. How can a fine, upstanding Gryffindor such as myself enjoy Slytherin green? Too reptilian. Do you even use that brain of yours, Granger?" He smiled warmly at her then to soften the sting before throwing his hand out in a wide arch in front of them as if to paint a scene.
"Imagine, if you will, the snows have finally melted. New spring grass, wet with freshly fallen rain, dance in a gentle breeze. The sun is finally warm enough to fight off the winter chill that still clings to the shadows." Fred shook his head at her as if disappointed. "How's that for Slytherin," he mumbled to himself.
Hermione blinked away her surprise, a smile slowly bloomed across her face. "That's quite poetic, Fred. And here I was convinced your favorite color would be something like magenta."
"Magenta?" he asked skeptically.
Hermione tossed her head, feigning disdain at his ignorance. "Of course, magenta. It would clash riotously with your hair," at this she reached out with a grin and ruffled his long locks. "Thus making it bold, loud, and utterly obnoxious. Quite similar to a Weasley twin," she said eyeing him playfully.
He chuckled lightly, running a large hand through his hair. "Now there's an idea, Granger," he murmured.
Smiling to herself, Hermione bit her lip and contemplated him earnestly. Fred stared down the steps toward the front doors, his gaze flickering from painting to painting but never really seeing. She could tell he was deep in thought, his slightly pursed lips and squinting eyes signs she was slowly beginning to pick up on as their friendship grew. Hermione felt delightfully warm from their playful banter, similar to how she felt walking into the Great Hall at the start of the evening on Viktor Krum's arm, but without the nearly overpowering nerves that had plagued her most of the day. Her earlier disappointment and fury at the youngest male Weasley was temporarily forgotten.
The comfortable silence between the two companions lasted for long moments before Fred's face grew sad.
"Is that how you see us, Granger?"
Hermione had drifted off in her own thoughts and was slightly startled to hear his voice. She turned to contemplate him, confused.
Scratching at the back of his neck in a sure sign of discomfort, Fred fidgeted next to her. "George and me? Is that how you see us? Loud and utterly obnoxious?"
She blinked in surprise. "No. Not at all, Fred," she said earnestly. She placed a delicate hand on his forearm and watched as the tips of Fred's ears turned pink. Hermione blushed at his curious reaction before continuing.
"I do think that's how you want people to see you. Not your friends, mind." She smiled shyly at him. "But others."
Fred grinned roguishly then and winked at her, chuckling when she felt her cheeks turn hot once more. "Brand new secret best friends, you mean?"
She rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide her discomfort. "Those, too," she agreed. Anxious, Hermione pulled her hand back from his arm, resting it in her lap. Her gaze dropped to her twined fingers, barely noticing the small frown that played across Fred's face.
"You and George, you put on a front for the world, Fred." Hermione could feel him watching her intently as she continued to speak.
"Thick as thieves, remember?" Her eyes locked on his a moment before dropping. "Always laughing, always outgoing, always causing mischief. No room for sorrow or embarrassment or fear," she said, her voice longing. "Not everyone is willing to dig deeper than the facade. Not everyone is brave enough."
Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as his face turned as red as his hair. Fred dragged a hand through his hair, huffing a sigh. He winced. Then, slowly, he leaned over and bumped his shoulder to her bare one. She smiled secretly to herself, a gentle flutter beginning to tickle in her stomach.
Then Fred spoke.
"What are you doing out here, Hermione? Don't you have some hot Bulgarian superstar waiting to sweep you off your feet?"
Hermione groaned, her face growing hard. The happy flutter turned to gravel in her gut as forgotten anger swarmed her chest and unshed tears filled her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists and she shot a pointed look at Fred.
"I'm here," she ground out through gritted teeth, "because your great git of a brother couldn't find himself a date and felt it best to ruin everyone else's good time."
She sighed heavily, deflating as the anger left her in a whoosh of breath. Turning to him suddenly, she anxiously grasped his calloused hands in her smaller ones. "You don't think I'm 'consorting with the enemy' by going with Viktor, do you, Fred?" she nearly whined in her worry.
His eyes widened comically in surprise before barking a laugh. "Is that what he said? 'Consorting with the enemy?' What does he think you're doing?"
Hermione scowled, the gravel feeling growing heavier. "Giving away secret strategies to help Viktor win the Tournament. As if I've not spent every spare minute trying Harry," she spat bitterly.
The swirling emotions clutching at insides quieted when Fred pulled her into a sideways hug and smiled warmly down at her. "Kinda hard to reveal secret strategies with the language barrier and all, innit?" He paused a beat, grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And all the snogging, of course."
Hermione blanched before her face erupted with heat. Fred laughed heartily, hugging his stomach and leaning away as she swatted at him.
"It isn't like that, Fred Weasley," she insisted, hiding her face in her hands.
Laughing once more, he pushed her shoulder. "Why the bloody hell not, Granger? He's a strapping young lad, and famous to boot. And you. Well," he eyed her appreciatively. "You look quite stunning," he said, his voice reverent. Fred coughed then, his cheeks flushed, and cleared his throat. "And you're only young once, Granger," he said much more gruffly.
A painful stab of humiliation sliced through her. How was it he could make fun of her now of all times?
"Fred," she admonished, glaring. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, turning away from him on the narrow step.
"I mean it, Hermione," he said slowly, sincerely. Strong fingers gripped her elbow, turning her back to face his earnest face. "You look quite fetching this evening. Just about every bird in that hall was seething with jealousy. Quite amusing actually." He smirked then though his hazel eyes remained cautious.
Hermione squirmed. She stood abruptly, brushing the wrinkles out of her dress and studiously avoiding his gaze. "Viktor is probably looking for me," she said, wincing at how tight her voice sounded even to her own ears.
"Right," he said, moving slowly to stand next to her. A hand reached up to brush her shoulder before dropping back down.
"Good night, Fred," she said, her words clipped, still refusing to turn and look at him properly. Grasping her skirt to avoid tripping, Hermione didn't wait for his reply before speeding off down the stairs.
"I meant it, Hermione." His voice rang down the stairs and she stopped, squeezing her eyes shut at the confusing emotions. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione slowly turned, her eyes immediately finding his.
Fred's smile was sad. "Krum's a lucky bloke," he said softly, holding her gaze. "Ignore anything my brother tells you. You and I both know he's a prat. And don't forget," he added with a wink, "You're only young once, Granger."
Hermione watched as he turned and slowly made his way up the stairs and out of sight. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, feet frozen to the step, eyes locked where she last saw him, before she registered another presence behind her.
"Hermy-own-ninny?" a deep, thickly accented voice asked. Warm, gentle pressure encased her elbow. "You come back to ball now, dah?"
She turned, drinking in dark, questioning eyes beneath a scowling brow. Hermione smiled, gentle warmth growing in her chest when Viktor returned it. Surprising them both, Hermione leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his thick neck, and brushed her full lips against his thin ones. Viktor hesitated only a moment before she felt strong arms pressing her to his wide chest as he returned her kiss with enthusiasm.
Hermione pulled away, breathless, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. Viktor's hands gripped her waist, his eyes swimming with intense emotion.
"Dance with me, Viktor?" she asked, her voice shaky.
Ever the silent type, Viktor only nodded as he released her waist to grasp her hand instead. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her chest when his fingers threaded through hers and he led her down the remaining stairs, across the hall, and back through the doors to the dance.