A:N/ Updates come sooner (and are formatted better) on AO3 :)
FRED POV
The Burrow was busy for a Monday: annoyingly so. Had he known he'd be put to work immediately, before even clocking in, Fred might not have traded well-rest with mediocre relations from his nameless hook-up. His Mum hadn't even replaced the broken coffee machine, so Fred was on his own for a pick-me-up.
"You're late, as usual," Percy, Fred's most annoying of brothers (and General Manager), pestered. "Mum's in a tizzy because of it."
"Fire me, why don't you," Fred said as he tied a black apron around his waist.
"Can you at least pretend to be helpful? Or even care?" Percy was drowned out by Fred's earbuds as he made his way to the kitchen.
Helpful? Percy agitated Fred to no end with his doubt of the twin's interest to help their family. Molly and Arthur had saved for decades on their own to afford The Burrow, Molly's dream, and had immediately been plagued with misfortune. Employee turnover, broken walk-ins and spoiled food, late product shipments, and the ever lurking threat of bankruptcy and loss of property. All their time and savings had been sunk into the business, and the family did everything they could to keep it afloat. Fred had even taken to working shifts, trained in both the kitchens and as waitstaff, to fill in vacancies on the schedule. George, Fred's twin, had done the same, but regardless of the hours of labour they put in, and the checks they refused to cash, Percy always held firm that it wasn't enough.
Charlie didn't even work at the restaurant, and Percy still hung his totem above Fred and George's.
"We need you in dish tonight, Freddie," Gus, the kitchen manager, pointed his grubby thumb back to the dish pit that was piling high with unscraped plates and stale pints of beer.
"The schedule says salads," Fred argued, he hadn't worn his boots and his non-slip trainers would be soaked in less than an hour.
"The schedule said 11 o'clock, it's noon now. If you managed your time you'd be tossin' salads all night. Now back to the pit."
Fred managed to find a pair of boots in the office that were just a tad too small, but better than his canvas trainers. He started organising the bus tubs and setting up the dish station to optimal efficiency; if he was banished to do dishes for eight hours, he'd at least do it properly.
Gemma, the busty waitress and subject of many of Fred's dreams, brought Fred a redbull from the bar and a basket of soggy chips; her ulterior motive was to let Fred know they needed steak knives and to please wash those first.
"Thanks, Freddie," Gemma sang as she hurried to the expo to run her plates.
It was a shit day.
Fred took his break at four. He had caught up on all the dishes and cleaned his station, the next dishwasher was scheduled to come in at four thirty, and Fred hoped that he'd be sent home. Fred changed into his dry shoes and took to the street for a smoke.
The streets were busy with afterschool traffic, the restaurant would soon get their next wave of customers. Fred reckoned he should be glad, albeit annoyed, that business had picked up recently. Increased sales meant his parents could sleep a little sounder at night.
Ginny, his little sister, briskly crossed the intersection to hurry in for her wait shift; she was late, as usual, but Percy wouldn't care, as usual.
His joint was lacking in substance, as his cash was low and the last of his stash had been rolled into the joint left in his jacket's pocket. Fred rubbed his face in frustration; it was so stupid of him to give, literally the coat off his back, to a bird just because of some exposed breast. He hadn't even his ID to cash his check, and he'd rather starve than ask Georgie, or god forbid his mum, for some cash until he ordered a new card.
"Oh!" A girl startled in front of the restaurant, her hand on the door handle. She stood frozen, fiddling with the bag in her hand.
She stared at Fred, worrying her lip as if trying to find her words.
"Need something?" Fred asked, he didn't fully appreciate being gawked during his only peace for the shift.
"Fred?" She questioned. She looked at him as if she knew him, and Fred's stomach dropped as he wondered if she was one of his previous dates.
"George, actually," thankfully Fred had a built-in save in the form of an identical twin. "Freddie's my twin."
"Oh." She wasn't much for words. She chewed her lip once again."I have something of his, could you return it for me?" She extended a paper bag towards Fred. Inside was Fred's jacket, neatly folded.
"Hermione?" Fred was too stunned to grab the bag, and the girl, Hermione, was too stunned to do anything but drop the bag to the pavement. Fred's eyes shamefully stole a glance at her chest, disappointed by the lack of transparent fabric.
"So you are Fred? You could have just said instead of making up a silly lie." She crossed her arms over her chest. Fred was only a little ashamed she had caught his glance.
"It's not a lie, I do have an identical twin." Fred said. "I just didn't recognize you, is all." Everything about her was the same as Friday night at the party, except for the uniform bit; she was a bit young for him, Fred realised.
There was a silence between them, neither knew what to say next.
"You work here?"
"It's my folk's, I help out."
"Oh. Do you go to university?"
"No."
At least his callus mood hadn't impeded her interest in him. She was as pretty as he remembered, which wasn't much due to his inebriated state. She had honey-brown doe eyes, they looked innocent, and that felt dangerous to Fred. In his sober state he was suddenly aware of how young she was, and he felt a creep for coming on to her so strongly. She was wearing the same uniform as Ginny, which meant 15, 16 at the most.
"What brings you to the burrow?" Fred asked, extinguishing his joint on the brick face of the restaurant. He stashed the rest in his front pocket and picked the paper bag up from the pavement. "Thanks, by the way."
"I'm picking up carryout for my parents," Hermione said. She looked at her shoes a lot. "A friend of mine from school recommended it to me."
"Who's the friend? I know most the regulars here," Fred didn't know why he was keeping her on the sidewalk in front of the shop. She was too young, yet he feared that once she went inside they wouldn't have another chance encounter.
"Uh, Ginny."
"Liar, Gin hates this place."He could tease her: teasing wasn't flirting. Fred's face lit up as he watched the blush rise in Hermione's cheeks. She looked good in pink. "Did you come all this way for me?"
"As if I spent my weekend scheming on how to locate you," Hermione huffed. "It's mere coincidence, is all."
"So that's why you were carrying my coat in a bag?" Fred took great pleasure in Hermione's fluster. "I reckon you're a stalker, then?"
"I am not! It says you've worked here on your socials."
"So you admit, you're stalking my socials."
"Hardly, your name was on your identification, it was easy to find you."
"So you're a stalker and a snoop."
"Forgive me for attempting to return your belongings," Hermione's fluster of embarrassment turned to anger. "I didn't know being a good samaritan came with so much badgering."
"I was only teasing, Hermione." Fred rubbed the back of his neck, bending over sink compartments was taking a toll on his spine.
"I'm afraid your belongings are a little short, I had to borrow some cash. I intended to return it but, well, my father had–"
"It's okay, Hermione. I won't miss it." It was a lie, Fred would miss it.
"I'll pay you back, I promise," Hermione's voice was stern, she wasn't going to give up easily. Fred supposed that the promise of a payback meant seeing her again, even briefly.
"If you insist." The silence returned, but neither made any attempts to leave each other's presence.
"I should pick up my order, my parents are expecting me home soon."
"How old are you?" Fred asked, he didn't want her to leave.
"17. I'm Year 13." She was only two years younger; Fred could live with that.
"Could I get your number?"
"Maybe next time."
And then she was gone, Fred watched the flutter of her skirt as she disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors of The Burrow. He groaned as he buried his face into his hands; he had acted so stupid in front of her, but she had said 'next time'.
Fred took the bag with his jacket and entered the kitchen through the back door in the alley. The night dishwasher was late, but Percy didn't hassle him for it, it seemed as though discipline was reserved only for Fred.
"Tell me about Hermione." Fred caught Ginny at the expo while she waited for appetisers.
"New girl, from London, studious and quiet." Ginny organised her tickets and sighed. "C'mon Gus, I've been waiting for those chips for ages, she's already got the fish!"
"Calm your tits, Gin, we're walking them." Gus yelled.
"Boyfriend?" Fred asked. The line cook dropped a basket of chips on the expo and Ginny grabbed them, stabbing her ticket on the pick.
"Don't think so, I've never seen her talking to anyone." Ginny moved to leave the kitchen but Fred intercepted her.
"Does Hermione have a surname?"
"Granger. Can I run my food now?"
Fred stepped from Ginny's way and watched her hurry out into the dining room. It had gotten busy again and the waitstaff and kitchen were all in full swing. Fred was still intent on leaving, though,.He manoeuvred around the cooks to the back office where his father sat at his desk inputting invoices to the computer.
"I'm out, dad," Fred said.
"Ah, Fred." Arthur swivelled around and smiled at Fred. "Your mum and I are very grateful that you came in today at such short notice. It doesn't go unappreciated."
"Thanks dad. Tell mum I'll be round Friday for dinner."
Fred exited The Burrow into the Alley and walked to the bus stop down the road. He and George had their own flat for a few months. It wasn't much, but they were proud of it. It was a good half an hour on the bus to the apartment, and Fred spent every second of it scouring the internet for Hermione Granger.