A:N/ Maybe I'm dumb, but I'm not pleased with the formatting here in comparison to AO3. The texting is a little confusing here and I'm sorry. In the original form, the texts are oriented on either side like an actual text conversation, with the POV character's messages on the right and the character they're messaging on the left. Here I've put a H: and F: to distinguish who is speaking.
FRED POV
Hermione Granger was an interesting bird.
Her instagram was private, and she'd yet to accept Fred's follow request. Her facebook was private, and she'd yet to accept his friend request. She had a goodreads account; Fred spent his evening reading her public reviews on books of all genres: she hardly gave a review above a 4-star rating. He found her old tumblr account, inactive for years, with reposts of literature quotes and other user's short stories. All the information suggested that Hermione might be a fan of reading, and Fred hadn't read a book in years.
He had hoped to find something that he could use to impress her, maybe a favourite sport team or special interest in a television or film series. Fred knew nothing about classic literature except he'd read a cliffnotes of Gatsby Year 10 so that he could pass Literature.
"Anything erotic in her favourites, Freddie?" George asked, lounging on the beige second-hand-sofa in their living room. Angelina, George's lady, had her head rested in George's lap as they watched Inbetweeners on the telly. Fred stood in their kitchen, nursing a kettle of water to boil.
"Nineteen Eighty-Four," Fred began to list.
"Above your intellect, I'm afraid," Angelina chimed.
"The Rebecca Notebook."
"Really? I loathed that one."
"The Bell Jar."
"I know that one," said George. "She must be properly mental to enjoy that."
"Maybe you ought to impress her with your physical strengths, not your mental ones?" said Angelina.
"Do you reckon I can impress her with my abs?" Fred asked as he closed the goodreads tab on his phone. He hadn't even had a six pack since he was on his school's lacrosse team, but his stomach still remained firm (unlike George's, who had gained a few kilos from Angelina's cooking).
"Take off your shirt next time you see her, and you'll find right out," Angelina laughed.
"Preferably in public, perhaps on your first date to the library."
"Suppose she might like Chetham, assuming she hasn't been there before," Fred said, dropping his phone to the kitchen counter.
Fred was no stranger to putting in effort to woo a bird, but Hermione was tougher than most. Fred's usual prospects came from an app or a dm on his socials; he'd almost forgotten how to gauge someone's interest in person. Hermione was interested in him, that much he was certain, but she was reluctant, and he needed to find out why.
The whistle of the kettle pulled Fred from his thoughts and he poured the boiling water into his instant noodles. His mother had insisted he bring food home from The Burrow, but he'd declined; he felt burdensome to ask Gus to cook his meal.
It was nearing nine in the evening, and Fred's body ached from his shift. George and Angelina were cozied on the sofa so Fred took his meal to his room to keep their privacy.
"Sweet dreams, Freddie," George sang, winking in Fred's direction (which likely meant they'd shag on the couch, one of the reasons Fred had taken to sitting in the armchair).
"You'll get her Fred," Angelina called. "You always do."
Fred's bedroom was packed with belongings from his childhood room; he had yet to finish unpacking from the move. He had a full-sized bed with a thin duvet and a flattened pillow (he preferred going to his date's homes than bringing them round his) and his old teddy rested between the pillow and the wall. His short bookcase served as a makeshift nightstand for his water bottles and phone charger, and its shelves were filled with his comics and magazines. It was a decent room, but it had a ways to go before Hermione could see it– if she'd see it.
He finished his noodles, broth included, and turned off his lights. The apartment was warm, and the air was humid, so Fred stripped from his shirt and sleep pants to lay atop his duvet. His favourite thing about his room was the window above his bed; he fancied watching the night sky as he fell asleep.
The pull to sleep was deep and heavy, and Fred's eyes seemed to glue shut almost instantly. His phone's screen, however, lit up. Suddenly Fred was wide awake.
Hermione Granger had accepted his follow request. Fred was a bit embarrassed by how quickly he opened her profile. Her posts were few and far between, but they were a gold mine.
Fred had expected photos of lattes and books, or flowers by the pavement, or pumpkins and jumpers in fall, but Hermione had subverted his expectations. Hermione posted photos with her friends, a tall black-haired glasses boy and a knit-covered blond boy, at various activities: football matches, the cinema, picnics at the park, and the sorts. Hermione even had a photo in a bathing costume at a school swim meet.
Football, cinema, picnics, and swimming were all activities that Fred could converse about; her posts gave Fred more insight to her life that he could use to his advantage. She participated in extracurricular sports and clubs, like swimming, debate, and MUN.
He scoured her tagged photos, revealing more group photos and heartwarming birthday and congratulatory announcements from Hermione's friends. Fred hoped that one day he'd be tagging her in such a post, perhaps in celebration of an anniversary.
Fred took no time to like her bathing costume photo and move into her dms. He typed swiftly and hit send before the nerves could stop him.
F: Not even a follow back I'm hurt
It wasn't even 20 seconds before she had read his message, and began to type her own.
H: Why bother? You've got a public account.
F: Not anymore ;)
H: I'll live.
She was cheeky; Fred liked cheeky.
F: Heard you're new to town, can I show you around?
Fred watched her typing bubbles dance on the screen, seemingly for hours. He could tell she was writing and then deleting. He hoped that meant she had butterflies just as he did.
H: I've been meaning to visit a bookshop in W Didsbury if you'd like to join me.
A bookstore was exactly what Fred had expected from Hermione, and he took it as a test.
F: Only if you've got recommendations for me
H: I'll make a list.
F: It's a date then :)
HERMIONE POV
"It's a date, then," Hermione exclaimed to the skype call on her laptop. Harry had gone round Neville's to call Hermione, as the Dursley's hadn't kept their promise to allow Harry his phone again. It was a blessing, Hermione thought, as if she'd only had Harry for advice, they'd both be spiralling into conspiracy.
"At least you don't have to worry yourself wondering his intentions," said Neville. Neville was the more practical of the trio; he wasn't as emotional as Harry, or logical as Hermione.
"What are you wearing," smiled Harry, who couldn't contain his amusement at the prospect of Hermione's date.
"My uniform," said Hermione. "We're meeting Friday after classes so that's the most practical thing to wear."
Neville and Harry glanced at each other in disagreement.
"You don't think that's a little–" Neville started.
"Kinky?" asked Harry.
"I was going to say lazy," Neville blushed. "You wouldn't want him to think you didn't try."
"It is not lazy! And it's not kinky either, Harry." Hermione chastised. "And I shouldn't have to try. He knows I'm a student, so he shouldn't expect anything different."
"You don't think a grown man on a date with a girl in a school uniform is a bit weird Hermione?" Harry asked. "Very Lolita of you."
"Why don't you take clothes to school with you? Then you wouldn't have to go home," Neville offered.
"What do you suggest I wear, then?"
"The little black dress with the slit up the thigh you wore to your cousin's wedding."
"Something comfortable: denim and a jumper."
"Thank you, Neville," Hermione glared at Harry. "I suppose that is sensible."
Hermione banned the words 'date', 'Fred', and 'Friday' from conversation and listened to Harry and Neville tell her stories from London. Hermione felt homesick listening to how her swim team (formally her swim team) had begun practice, and how all her friends had planned on cheering on Harry at his first Rugby practice. Neville had also mentioned he'd be trying Theatre for the fall, as the girl he fancied had asked him to join.
"Don't you have stage fright, Nev?" Harry asked.
"I just hope I can get by making props or managing lights." Neville looked nervous even at the idea of performing on the stage.
Harry and Neville had been a great distraction for Hermione, she even found herself laughing for the first time (it seemed) since moving to Manchester. She felt the tears begin as Neville's gran knocked on his door to tell them it was light's out, and they promised to chat again soon.
"Even if it's just a text, you can reach us anytime," Neville said.
"Don't be a stranger, Granger," Harry chimed.
Hermione felt guilty that she hadn't been in much contact with them, and she felt even more guilt that she hadn't spoken to any of her friends that weren't Harry and Neville.
"I know, I should put in more of an effort to keep in touch." Hermione said, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"That's not it, Hermione," Neville said. "We know you're busy." She wasn't busy, she hadn't even signed up for extracurriculars.
"We just wanted to remind you that we're always here for you, and we know you're still there for us, too." Harry said.
They said their goodbyes, I love you's, and goodnights, and Hermione closed her laptop. She was glad she'd followed through with skyping, but it had exhausted her.
Hermione crossed the hall from her bedroom into the loo to brush her teeth and prepare for bed. Her parent's had yet to come home, and their takeout from The Burrow sat in the fridge, waiting for them.
Hermione supposed that making a connection with someone in Manchester wasn't a bad idea. She had planned on keeping to herself, forgoing any friendships, so that she'd have no reason to second-guess returning to London for university. Fred had changed that plan, however, because Hermione felt inexplicably drawn to him.
He was charming, witty, and handsome. He was dangerous, Hermione thought, to her plan. Hermione had never dated before, but she was aware enough that dating led to attachment, and Hermione couldn't get attached.
But she craved companionship, and lately, she found that she craved the attention that Fred gave her.
She went to bed staring at Fred's instagram page. True to his word, he had changed his to private. Hermione bit her lip second-guessing her decision, but she requested to follow. He hadn't accepted immediately, but she knew from their conversation that he had already gone to sleep (he had an early morning shift at The Burrow to cover).
She supposed she was glad he hadn't accepted that night, or Hermione would have spent her night going through each of his photos to dissect his captions and over analyse everything in his photos.