Chapter Title: 9 - Fit, Fits & Firewhiskey

Characters: Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley

Description: Set during DH. Hermione wakes from a nightmare after the Battle of Seven Potters. She and Fred find one another in the Burrow kitchen and proceed to work some things out. You'll realize how clever that is once you read the chapter.

Word Count: 4,295

Date Published: 11/10/2014

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

WARNING: Under 18? This chapter is not for you. Even if Hermione is also under 18 for the duration of this chapter. Life isn't fair like that.

Her terrified gasp pierced the heavy silence of the room she shared with Ginny. She flailed in muted panic, struggling mightily before Hermione managed to throw off the clinging, twisted sheets. Finally free, she lay panting for a time, clutching at her erratically beating chest.

Harry was safe. Her… her parents. She swallowed hard past the knot in her throat, not even bothering to acknowledge the burn in her eyes. They were safe, too. As safe as she could make them. George, poor George, was injured but otherwise okay. And Mad-Eye… she swallowed again sharply before swinging her feet over the side of the bed to cradle her head in her hands. Hot tears dotted her bare thighs and she pressed the heel of her hand into her eyes to stem the flow. With a low growl, she stood, scanning the other bed quickly to see Ginny somehow managing to sleep soundly. From the looks of the empty potion bottle on the nightstand, the redhead had made use of a Dreamless Draught.

Grabbing her wand and tiptoeing, Hermione slunk her way down the tall, rickety stairs of the Burrow only just remembering to avoid the squeaky third step Fred had once told her about. She padded barefoot past the back of the couch, peaking over to smile warmly at the softly snoring George. Moonlight from the nearby window highlighted the white bandages wrapped around his head and threw shadows across his messy, tousled hair. Someone, she noticed, had spelled some thin pajama bottoms on the stocky man, neglecting a shirt in the warm summer night.

The sight made her stomach clench as her thoughts inevitably drifted to George's identical-in-nearly-every-way twin brother. No. No, she told herself. This was George. And while to most of the world the twins were interchangeable, Hermione Granger knew better. Knew Fred better. Or at least she had at one time, and this most certainly was not Fred. Fred never managed to look that peaceful the few times she'd caught him sleeping. No. Somehow Fred always managed to look as if he were plotting and scheming, even in a dead sleep. The soft smile on her lips slid into a scowl.

No. She shook her head forcefully. Not Fred.

A loud, whining snore snapped her attention to the injured man's face and her breath caught in her chest. George's head tossed briefly before he settled down again with a sigh. Exhale whooshing in relief, Hermione scanned over him for any overt signs of distress. Seeing none, she allowed her eyes to wander to the pale, freckled hand laying limp across his broad chest. A hand that was just barely covering the smattering of ginger hair beneath it. Without conscious consent, her eyes continued their leisurely stroll down to his flat stomach, and the thicker trail of hair beginning just at his bellybutton.

Good gods, the twins were fit.

Suddenly realizing she was practically feasting on George's prostrate form, Hermione flushed furiously. Well, she mused, at least those thoughts were better than what had woken her. She blushed harder imagining the teasing she would have to endure if George ever caught wind of her late-night perusal. Insufferable wouldn't even begin to describing the smug smirk she could readily imagine flitting across his sleep-slack face.

Shaking her head with an embarrassed smirk, Hermione turned pointedly away from the sleeping man and continued on quickly toward the kitchen, the door swinging shut silently on well-used hinges. The night here was darker, the moon hidden from this side of the house, though she could just make out a hint of the large, scarred wooden table and the range off to the right where the kettle sat. Casting a quick Aguamenti and heating charm, Hermione busied herself gathering the tea leaves and her favorite mug from the cupboard, expertly cancelling her charm just before the kettle whistled.

Chore finished, she leaned her hip against the familiar counter, holding the warm comfort in her hands and inhaling deeply.

"You know, Firewhiskey works better."

Hermione startled violently, gasping as she fumbled her mug and sent scalding water splashing across her arm. Fred was at her side immediately, his wand already glowing with a warm Lumos to assess the damage.

"Merlin's tit, Hermione. I thought you knew I was here," he berated even as he snatched the near-empty mug from her hand, setting it down to gently grasp her wrist.

Hermione whimpered.

Fred shot her a concerned look before returning his full attention back to her burn. He whispered a quick charm and Hermione sighed in relief as the pain eased.

Holding her wrist for a moment longer than strictly necessary, Fred scowled down at her searchingly. With a defeated sigh, he dropped her arm to turn toward the cupboard and pull down a glass tumbler. He gestured with it at her surprised face, pointing at her almost in accusation.

"Firewhiskey."

Her eyes widened as she leaned slightly back from his hard stare. "Firewhiskey?" she asked slowly as she might a temperamental child. Or temperamental Weasley, regardless of age, apparently.

Hazel eyes glared at her. "Yes. Sit."

Scrambling to comply for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, Hermione sat clumsily at the table, noticing for the first time the half-empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey next to a second empty tumbler. Fred sat heavily in the chair at the head of the table just to her left, slamming the clean tumbler he carried down with a loud crack and tipping a generous pour into both glasses. He pushed one toward her, eyeing her warily until she took up the glass. Grabbing his, he took a healthy mouthful, wincing with a groan as he swallowed.

Leaning back into his chair, Fred studied her over the rim of his glass. He nodded his chin up at her.

"Drink."

Hermione's lip curled and she daintily sniffed at the drink in her hand. "Fred, I don't think-"

"Nightmares?" he asked, cutting her off. As she nodded, he did also as if confirming something to himself. "Then drink. It'll make you feel better than tea could. Trust me." He said the last with a muted sneer, turning his head away in an attempt to hide his expression.

Slowly, hesitantly, Hermione brought the whiskey to her lips. She took a small swallow only to cough roughly as it burned down into her belly, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Getting herself under control, she turned wet-rimmed eyes to him.

Fred sniffed. "It gets easier." He gestured with his tumbler. "The more you drink, the easier it gets." He took another sip, still grimacing, but without the accompanying groan.

Setting her glass down on the table in front of her, Hermione dropped her hands down into her lap. "Why would you do it to yourself enough to even know it gets better?"

Fred snorted a laugh before downing the rest of his glass in one go. He set it down, leaning forward to snag her drink. "Sirius told me once that Firewhiskey makes everything better." He held up her glass, studying the amber liquid, swirling it gently.

She watched him, fingers clasped and shoulders hunched. "As I understand, Sirius was also being chased by some bloody awful demons."

Elbows on the table, he leaned toward her now, his eyes squinting. "And my demons, Granger?" He whispered, forcing a casualness to the question that she knew to be a lie.

Leaning forward, she matched his intensity, glittering brown eyes boring into his. "He's still alive, Fred," she whispered back.

With a growl, Fred dropped back in his chair. Despite turning his head away, Hermione caught the slight shimmer of tears as they slid down his face. He sniffed once, scratching at his face before turning back to her.

"Heard what you did to your parents." His tone was just shy of accusatory, and Hermione bristled. She snatched the tumbler away from him, chugging the glass before slapping it down on the table.

"You're a bloody arse, Fred Weasley," she wheezed, making to stand, to storm out, but he grasped her wrist insistently.

"Don't," he said, panic edging his tone as his grip tightened. He swallowed, nodding. "You're right. I'm an arse. But, I…" He turned pleading eyes on her before looking anywhere else. "I need you, Hermione. Please."

Hermione dropped back into her seat and stared at him in a mixture of concern and anger. Long moments passed with the only sound the ticking of an old, oddly bent grandfather clock.

"Why'd you stop?" she finally blurted, brows furrowed in long suppressed bitterness.

Fred stared at her as if she were barmy. "What?"

Hermione shook her head, wisps of curls tickling her cheeks. "I mean, I knew you were busy, what with the shop and all, and inventing new products, keeping up with demand. And I never… I never expected you to write back as often as I did, but…" A sad sigh left her lips and she turned hollow eyes to him. "Why did you stop, Fred?"

All throughout her rant, Fred's eyes had slowly narrowed in suspicion. "I did write," he sneered, his face twisted in ugly resentment.

"Not since last summer, Fred!"

"Bollocks!" he yelled, slapping a hand down on the tabletop making her jump. "Every bloody night, Hermione. For months!"

"No." Hermione was shaking her head adamantly. Hot tears blurred her vision and she struggled awkwardly to her feet. Again, Fred reached out and gripped her wrist, this time tugging her toward him until her eyes met his.

"I swear, Hermione. On George's life, I swear."

Hermione slumped, boneless, into her chair and collapsed forward to bury her face in her arms. Sobs wracked her shoulders and she only cried harder when she felt the warm strip that was Fred press into her side and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Months and months of tension and doubt and worry poured out of her in a torrent. "I thought I did something wrong, that you were angry with me. Every night I wrote you, Fred. Every single night. And then the whole Won-Won and Lavender fiasco. Gods, I-I was a mess! I missed you s-so much, Fred, and they just kept bloody rubbing it in my face. And the Slug Club! Fred! I had to take sleaze-ball Cormac to the Slug Club because Ron had bloody convinced himself I was jealous. He just kept looking at me with these pity filled eyes, the bastard, thinking that all the time I was upset over you, it was because of him. Him! And then Dumbledore! Oh, Fred! And my p-parents!"

All the time, Fred hummed to her soothingly, brushing fingers through her sweat-damp hair. Slowly, slowly, Hermione calmed. Fred pressed his mouth to her curls and squeezed her shoulder. Turning in his embrace, Hermione wrapped her arms around his ribcage, locking her wrists together at his back even as he locked his arms around her slim shoulders.

They sat in companionable silence for long moments.

"You did the right thing with your parents, Hermione."

She swallowed. "Did I?"

Fred sighed. "They might not agree where they to ever find out." Hermione tensed and he squeezed her again, reassuringly. "But what you did, Hermione? That was incredibly selfless and brave. To do what you did? I don't know that I could do that."

A weak smile graced her lips. "Thank you, Fred."

Silence again cloaked them in a comfortable embrace until Hermione cleared her throat.

"We're leaving," she whispered into his chest.

Fred nodded, unsurprised. "When?"

"After the wedding."

He nodded again. "For how long?"

She was silent a long moment. "Until it's over."

Fred squeezed her and she pretended not to notice how his breath caught in his chest.

"Do you need anything?"

Hermione shook her head still pressed over his heart soaking up all the comfort she could. "I packed up days ago."

He nodded again. Hermione grasped him tighter.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm scared."

His grip tightened around her until she thought she she might be dizzy, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. Her stomach clenched delightfully at the tender contact.

"Fred?"

Something in her voice made him pause before his grasp loosened just enough he could pull back and look questioningly down into her shining eyes. Before she could think it through or talk herself out of it, Hermione scrambled up to straddle his lap. She watched him shyly through her lashes, bright blush staining her cheeks so hard it was visible even in the darkness.

"Hermione?" he said hoarsely, his hands dropping down to grip on her hips.

She kissed him, pressing her warm, full lips to his in a chaste kiss. She pulled back to study him.

Fred blinked dumbly at her. Then he lunged forward, crashing his lips to hers, tangling his hands in her hair to pull her to him. His tongue delved into her mouth, touching, seeking, caressing, and she moaned.

With a strangled groan, Fred pulled away from her panting hard. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed tight.

"What?" he gasped out before his eyes snapped open to lock with hers. "What are we-"

"I don't know," she confessed, cutting off his inquiry. Hermione rolled her hips into his experimentally. Fred groaned low and loud, his hand dropping to clench her hip tightly. He speared her with intense eyes.

"I'm afraid, Fred," she whispered, their breath mingling in the space between them. "Afraid of this war." Her fingers danced over the shell of his ear. "Afraid of what might happen." She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his stubbled cheek before placing them next to his ear. "We wasted a whole year, Fred," she breathed, delighting in the shudder that wracked his body. She pulled back to look in his eyes once again. "What if we never have another opportunity?"

His nostrils flared. "Do you know what you're asking?" he asked in a pained whine.

Hermione chuckled. "I have a fair notion."

Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. He arched forward and began placing hot, open mouth kisses along her jaw. "This." Kiss. "Might be." Kiss. "A terrible." Kiss. "Idea."

Strong fingers gripped her bum, massaging gently. She rocked her hips into his again, kissing him on the mouth hard. "But it isn't," she whispered insistently. "I want you, Fred. Now. If and when this is all over. And I'm quite desperate to feel something other than afraid."

His kiss was gentle, tender, and so full of emotions neither were quite ready to say aloud. He stood, setting her on her feet before twining his fingers through hers and leading her from the kitchen. Hurriedly she flicked her wand, sending the tumblers and Ogden's back to their cupboard as the kitchen door shut behind her. Fred led her through the living room, up the stairs, hopping expertly over the third step, to the room the twins once shared and the small bed there.

Fred locked and silenced the room as Hermione, stomach clenched tight, cast a contraceptive charm Ginny had taught her last year. She then sat stiffly on the bed. Fred reached for her wand, setting it next to his on the side table. He encouraged her to lay back as he spread himself out next to her. Head propped up on an elbow, Fred traced teasing fingers down her side, staring intently into her face.

"Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am. I just…" She felt her cheeks boil. "I've never done this before," she muttered.

Orange eyebrows rose to his hairline. "And you think I have?" His hand never stopped caressing her side.

Hermione glared at him incredulously and he snorted. "Fine," he confessed. "Once. In a broom closet. It wasn't much more awkward than this." He grinned wickedly.

If anything, her glare deepened. "Do I even… no. I don't want to know." His grin widened, until she jabbed him in the chest. "It wasn't Angelina, was it?"

Fred laughed. "No," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't Angelina. George would have my bollocks."

She grew quiet, her fingers twisting anxiously. Fred smirked down at her, watching for a moment before leaning down to kiss her ear.

"What do you want, Hermione?" he whispered, breath caressing where his lips had been.

Shuddering, her stomach coiled delightedly at the sensation. She clenched her eyes shut to hide from his expression and licked her lips. "I… I want to touch you," she breathed.

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Where?"

Biting her lip, she wrinkled her nose. "Your chest."

The bed shifted as Fred sat up, pulling the thin cotton t-shirt over his head. He settled back down, folding both arms up behind his head and offering her unfettered access to do as she pleased. Opening her eyes, Hermione raked her gaze across the hard planes of his chest, so very like George's she had ogled just hours ago.

The twins really were quite fit.

Reaching out a tentative hand, Hermione grazed feather-light fingertips across his collarbone, down his chest, and over his stomach, watching in delighted fascination as the muscles beneath corded and jumped. Bolder, she dug her splayed fingers through the valley of his chest letting the sparse hair there tickle her palm. She dragged her fingers around, alternating between the pads and her nails, listening intently to the pants and groans she pulled from him with just this simple touch. A spark of bright desire flared between her legs when he moaned as her finger ghosted over a pale, flat nipple.

She grinned.

Leaning forward, she kissed tenderly across his collarbone and up the column of his neck. Fred squirmed and fidgeted, obviously fighting himself not to grab her and take control. Smothering a smirk, Hermione pressed wet, breathy kisses down his chest, pausing to flick a tentative tongue across his nipple. Fred jumped and grabbed her, spinning her so quickly beneath him she felt dizzy.

"My turn," he declared, fingers dancing under the hem of her t-shirt, rising up, up to brush just under the swell of her breast. Hermione shut her eyes tight, arching into his touch. Following along the curve of her breast, his fingers traced along her collarbone, tickling her, warming her, and she hummed.

Pulling her to sit upright, Fred knelt beside her and slowly drew her shirt up and over her head giving her ample time to protest. Tossing the shirt across the room, he gently guided her back down, staring so intently she began to squirm and reached up to cover herself and the long scar that ran from between her breast down across her stomach and curled around her bottom right rib.

His eyes met hers and she looked away.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he breathed, his voice choked with awed reverence. She looked to him again and he reached for her wrists. Gently pulling them away, he brushed his lips across the very top of her scar. "Beautiful." He kissed her lips gently before sitting back on his heels and resuming his teasing, touching exploration.

Brilliantly calloused fingers skimmed over her heated skin, between her breasts, down her sides, up her arms. She squealed when rough fingers pinched lightly at her pebbled nipple.

Laying atop her, his tongue plundered her mouth and he pressed his hardness into her. She moaned, her legs spreading wider to accommodate him. Scrambling for purchase, she raked her nails down his back, pausing as she fingered the waistband of his pajama trousers. He smirked against her throat.

"Do you want to touch me, Hermione?" he whispered.

She swallowed hard but nodded. Kissing her swiftly, Fred backed off the bed to stand silhouetted against the window. He quickly yanked off his sleep trousers and pants and took a hesitant step toward her.

Curious, Hermione sat up on the edge of the bed and reached out. Fingertips brushed silky hardness and Fred gasped, jerking into her touch. Ghosting her fingers along his length and delighting in his moans, she experimentally swirled a finger around the dark head pulling back in surprise when she felt wetness at the tip. Fred whimpered, standing so rigidly his body shook. Squaring her shoulders, she reached out again, this time wrapping her hand around him and giving a squeeze.

Fred groaned loudly, his hips pumping into her fist. Taking a steadying breath, Hermione suddenly dipped her head forward and licked the tip.

"Fuck," Fred shouted, his hands clenching convulsively as Hermione took the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked. He reached quickly for her shoulders, pushing her back and away. "I won't… you can't…" he mumbled, panting hard. He caught sight of her timid look and growled, dragging a hand through his hair.

"It's just…" he sighed. "It's been awhile. I'll cum way too soon if you start that," he muttered.

"Oh."

"Next time," he declared. "You are more than welcome next time." He climbed gingerly back into bed, lying next to her and tracing her side with his fingers. Hermione could feel him pressing into her hip and squirmed.

"Stop that," Fred demanded, tweaking a dusty nipple. Hermione yelped, kicking out uncontrollably. Smirking, Fred tweaked it again. "Like that?" he teased before dipping his head to take it between his lips.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione gasped out as Fred tugged a nipple gently with his teeth. Stomach fluttering under his hand, her breath caught in her throat when his long fingers brushed the waistband of her sleep shorts, barely dipping beneath the hem.

"Fred," she asked, breathless, when he grasped her shorts and knickers, drawing them down and off her legs. He pulled her knee up, spreading her legs wide and tickling along her inner thigh as she quivered and writhed in anticipation.

And then he touched her and she convulsed up, wailing at the sensation. Feather light strokes against her clit, taunting and teasing, and she fell back on the bed panting his name. He grazed his fingers down her slit, probing gently at her entrance. Sliding first one finger, then two into her heat, he pumped steadily even as she pressed herself into his cupped hand. Her stomach clenched, pooling warmth and she keened.

Fred leaned down, his lips whispering over her ear. "Can I taste you, Hermione?" he asked, his voice husky and deep.

The feeling in her stomach intensified and she babbled. "Yes! Oh gods, Fred, please."

The fingers left her and she whimpered even as she felt the delicious scrape of his stubble against her stomach as he began kissing his way down her body. Hot breath caressed her clit and then his tongue was dragging up her slit, whirling around her clit before he latched on and sucked.

She shattered. Her hips arched and thrust into him, grabbing his hair and pulling as her orgasm ripped through her body. And she wept, the tingling waves so intense she felt it in her cheeks and the palms of her hands.

Fred climbed up her body quickly, aligning himself at her entrance. Thrusting into her, he stilled, her body tensing even as her brain struggled to process this new feeling. Slowly, she came back to herself, the feeling of fullness replacing the pinched pulling. Blinking, lust-hazed brown eyes focused on his hazel, concern, desire, and need warring in their depths. Gripping his shoulders, Hermione nodded and Fred began to slowly thrust into her.

She moaned, low and loud, and Fred's tightly held control slipped. He began pumping into her in earnest, panting into her ear and he held her tightly, his body slapping into hers. "Fuck, Hermione," he groaned, shuddering as he came.

He kissed her brow tenderly before crawling to collapse at her side, hot breath puffing into the crook of her neck.

They lay together in the heavy silence, the darkness beginning to grey as morning approached, sweat slicking their skin where they were pressed together on the small bed. Hermione turned her head to find him watching her and smiled shyly, her cheeks burning pink.

Fred kissed the tip of her nose. "You alright?" he asked gently, fingers reaching to twine with hers.

She nodded, shifting to her side so she was tucked against his chest. "You?"

Fred nodded.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

He paused, inhaling deeply. "You really wrote me? Every day?"

She burrowed deeper into his chest. "Right up until… until Dumbledore."

He squeezed her tightly. "I wrote you until Christmas hols."

"What do you think happened?"

Fred shook his head and shrugged. "Dunno. Something must have gone wrong with one or more of the charms. I'll work on and get it fixed by the time you three disappear."

Hermione nodded and settled back into his chest. "I have to go, Fred," she sighed at last.

He kissed her. "Come back tomorrow night?"

She sighed. "What about George?"

Fred paused. "He's not going anywhere."

Hermione pulled away, snorting. "Then the answer is no." She climbed out of bed, searching the room for her night clothes. Fred tucked his hands behind his head, watching as she flexed and bent, his frown deepening the more clothes she pulled on. Finally, he stood, stalking to her and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I missed you," he breathed into her hair. "Don't do that again, Hermione."

She nodded, smiling up at him with wet eyes. Her lips brushed against his, tongue darting out to touch his lip. "Love you, Fred," she said, pulling away and slipping quickly out the door.

Rushing down the hall to Ginny's room, she darted in, wincing as she snapped the door closed before diving under her sheets, heart pounding, cheeks flaming. Hiding her face beneath her pillow, she groaned. Today was going to be so very awkward.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ahem. Yes. Well. Hopefully that was worth the wait, as well as delightfully awkward enough for a first time. And made you feel feelings. Preferably the nicer ones. Be a mate and let me know, yeah?