FRED POV
Fred's week was shit, and the only thing that got him through it was knowing he'd see Hermione Friday afternoon, and then a proper home-cooked meal that evening back at home. Gods knew Fred missed his mother's cooking.
His shifts at The Burrow had started to impede Fred's shifts at the autocentre, and Fred relied on repairing autos to make his rent. Even George, who took up the shifts that Fred couldn't cover, was miffed, and George was the mild-tempered of the two.
"Percy's a right twat," George had complained to Ang on Thursday night. George, Angelina, and Fred sat round the telly to watch Charlie's HBO, as they did every week. Fred was too tired to focus on the screen.
"I know babes, you've said before." Angelina ran her fingers through George's hair and cradled his head down into her chest. Lucky sod, Fred wondered if he'd ever get so lucky to feel Hermione's breasts against his cheek.
"He tried to guilt me today for not being available on the floor for lunch service," George continued. "Even though he knows I was at the shop. It's only the same schedule every week for the last year."
Fred had started to notice a distance between he and George once Angelina became a more permanent fixture in their lives. It was once Fred who George had aired his complaints to, but those ramblings were now reserved for Ang. It was the first of many changes that came with the twin's descent into adulthood. They were even now just 'Fred' and 'George' to their friends and family – no longer 'the twins'. They spent so much of their childhood and adolescence trying to escape the impending transition into individuality, but now that it was here, Fred couldn't help but feel freed.
Hermione didn't know Fred in relation to his brother, and that was exciting to Fred. There weren't many people in his life that didn't associate Fred to being a prankster, a delinquent, or a dropout.
"You've got your date tomorrow, hey Fred?" George asked, pulling Fred from his thoughts.
"Right, the bookstore in Didsbury. Gots a cafe in it I think." Fred said. He had vaguely looked at the shop's site when checking for directions. He memorised three separate routes, in case of train delay or freak accidents that led to street closures. For the first time, he was nervous for a date.
"You nervous, Fred?" Angelina asked, pulling a quilt over her and George's entwined legs on the couch.
"Course not," Fred lied.
Fred retired to his room, not keen on watching George and Ang exchange spit on the couch. It was maddening, sometimes, living with a couple. Angelina didn't even properly live in the flat, but she might as well been added on the lease.
Fred had spent the week unpacking and rearranging his room on the off-chance that Hermione ended in his room Friday night. Fred wasn't above asking her over, but he settled on making that decision in the moment rather than plan it. He'd even gotten new pillows, the fancy gel sort, and washed his bedding with the good detergent that had a pleasant floral scent.
He had a simple fit planned for Hermione, a soft white tee, tapered black-wash jeans, his black leather work boots, and, of course, his leather jacket she'd borrowed from him. It smelled of her, the jacket, and Fred was smug that she'd worn it long enough for her scent to soak in.
Her scent had been a distraction throughout the week. He had, on many occasions, pictured Hermione in his jacket (and only his jacket) lounged in his bed, with thighs parted, waiting for him. He had imagined quite a few things he wasn't proud of. He really hoped he had an opportunity to invite her back to his apartment.
Fred's phone lit up, and expecting a message from Hermione, Fred dove for it.
H: I've only just finished my coursework for the night.
Right, Fred had asked her what she was doing. He had been waiting for her reply for hours.
F: Ah. Such a good girl.
Fred regretted it as soon as he sent it. He had purposefully abstained from sending suggestive or overly flirtatious messages to Hermione, he didn't want her to think him a creep so soon.
H: I've got a reputation back home for being bad ;)
Suddenly, Fred found it hard to breathe. He stripped from his trousers, as they were becoming tight, and pulled his shirt over his head. Fred turned off his lamp and crawled into his bed, sitting upright against his pillows.
He had his invitation to flirt.
F: And how do you intend to repent?
H: Have you got a kink for catholicism?
F: Always had a thing for nuns, reckon I can get you into a habit
H: My first crush was the priest of my grandmother's church .
I'll wear the habit if you wear the roman collar
Fred palmed himself through his boxer briefs. The rational part of his brain told him to continue the tease, to let Hermione lead the conversation so as to stay in her comfort level. The horny part of his brain told him to search up her bathing costume photo from instagram.
F: We're a match made in Heaven for sure
H: Ha Ha
That was sarcastic if you couldn't tell
He was losing her. Fred could feel his boxers dampen, so he pulled the waistband down to free himself.
F: Wyd?
He couldn't be bothered to pretend to make conversation.
H: Watching telly in my room.
Why, what are you doing?
This is the point where, if she had been his girlfriend (or any woman who'd given him consent) he'd send a photo of himself, maybe a video if he was feeling whimsical.
F: Yeah? You're in bed already?
It was only 9 o'clock, but Fred remembered it was still a school night. He felt a little ashamed to be wanking over a bird still in school.
H: On the sofa.
Fred slowed his strokes, confused by her words.
F: Sofa? In your bedroom?
H: Well, just a loveseat. I have a desk and study instead of a seating area.
Fred remembered her uniform, the posh private academy that Ginny attended. Ginny had been on scholarship, but Fred realised Hermione's folks might actually pay her tuition. He had been at the Malfoy's house party when he met Hermione (Fred had sold the posh twat edibles and had been invited to stay), but she didn't seem the sort to hang around that crowd.
F: I've a stuffie in my room. Better than a loveseat
H: Cute, I'd love to see it.
F: Well, if you play your cards right you might get a chance tomorrow night ;)
HERMIONE POV
Hermione squeezed her thighs together. Her room was quite warm, she'd never noticed that before.
She sat on her cream sofa near her wardrobe, her telly mounted on the wall ahead of her. She'd forgotten most people weren't fortunate to have such space in their rooms; she'd hoped Fred didn't think her a snob, he clearly has been taken aback.
F: Well, if you play your cards right you might get a chance tomorrow night ;)
He was going to be the death of her. Hermione had a plan, be attentive and interested on their date, agree to meet again, take things slow. Fred had a way, it seemed to derail her plans. She wanted to accept Fred's offer to his apartment after their date, and that scared her. She'd never been so quick to forgo her rationality.
She shouldn't be eager to be alone with a man she did not know, it was dangerous. As much as they had spoken the past week, he was still technically a stranger. She hadn't even given Fred her number, they still only spoke through instagram.
But Hermione was no stranger to sexuality, and Fred made her itch for intimacy.
F: Did I lose you? I apologise if it was a bit forward.
Hermione bit her lip; she liked his forwardness.
H: You never told me what you were doing.
F: Thinking of you.