The Third Time

Ginny snored.

It wasn't the first time Hermione discovered this fact about her friend and roommate. It had kept her awake many nights. When Ginny began to talk in her sleep, Hermione gave up any hope of finding some respite in her bed. She kicked back the covers, groaning as the snoring started anew.

The hallway was dark when she stepped out of the bedroom. It would be seven paces to the stairs, which Hermione counted in the dark. Her foot touched the first step, then the next, until she was in the kitchen. Once there, she finally turned on a light. She filled the tea kettle with water as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the light. Once the pot was on the stove with a flame underneath, Hermione took a seat at the table and let her head rest against the wooden top.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed twice just as the kettle whistled. It was two o'clock in the morning, and Hermione was sitting in the Burrow kitchen instead of asleep in her bed. Hermione shook her head; it wasn't really her bed. This wasn't really her home.

Footsteps caused the stairs to squeak. Hermione looked up to see Fred coming towards her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, pouring water into her cup before selecting another cup for him.

Fred yawned before answering. "My flat is too quiet without George there. I sleep here a few nights a week when I can't take the silence any longer."

"Silence. Must be nice," she grumbled, retaking her seat. "Gin snores. Loudly."

Fred laughed. "You didn't grow up in a house with eight other people," he replied, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into his tea. "I been thinking about looking for a roommate, ya know."

The tired witch nodded in agreement, fiddling with her spoon. She began to wonder why she suddenly hoped Fred would ask her to take his spare room. The logical part of her mind told her it was because he recognized her need to leave the Weasley family home. The female part of her told it was because she may have developed a slight crush on Ron's older brother.

"Yeah, I was going to offer it to Verity." Hermione's eyes snapped to Fred as he spoke. He smiled briefly before continuing. "But she might see it as me taking advantage of her close proximity to the store. So, I think that idea is out."

Silence settled over the pair as they continued to drink their tea. Fred yawned again and stood, taking his cup to the sink. "I think I'm gonna head back up to bed," he announced. Hermione nodded and gave him a short wave. He was halfway up the steps when he stopped. "You know the room is yours if you want it." He was gone before she could respond.

The next afternoon, Hermione stood outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a suitcase and backpack in her hands. It took several deep, fortifying breaths before she pushed open the door and made her way to the checkout counter. Fred stood behind the register ringing up customers, but asked George to take over once he spotted her.

"So, uh, I thought I would take you up on your offer," she stuttered. When Fred pretended to not know what she was referring to, Hermione stammered and her suitcase fell to the floor. "Well, I mean, you said the room was...sorry. I'll just go."

Fred reached out for her case, tugging slightly on Hermione's arm. "I was only joking. I know what you're talking about." He managed to pry the suitcase from her hand and began to walk upstairs to the flat. Hermione followed a few steps behind, setting her backpack down beside the door when they entered. He moved through the living room and past the kitchen, then down a short hallway with two closed doors on the right side. At the end of the hallway were two doors, side by side.

"Yours is the one on the right," he told her, pushing open the door. He set her case down on the end of the bed. "It's not much, but we can fix up anything you want."

"It's perfect," she told him with a smile. "Thank you."

"Get unpacked. I'll be downstairs."

By the end of the day, Fred was exhausted as he dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment. The pleasant aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafted toward him before he even opened the door. "Honey, I'm home," he called out. Hermione emerged from the kitchen with two bowls of pasta in her hands. "You cooked? Is this safe?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a seat on the sofa. "Your mum helped," she admitted, holding out a bowl to him. He took a hesitant bite, chewed slowly, and declared it edible. "I did do most of the work myself though." They spent dinner discussing the daily goings-on of the joke shop. Fred told her about their latest projects, the newest, best-selling inventions, and the comical outcomes of customers who tested the products without buying. Hermione filled him in on the plans she had for her room - everything from changing the color of the walls to installing a few bookshelves to house her massive collection of tomes.

With the dinner dishes set aside for the moment, Fred leaned back into the comfort of his couch and closed his eyes. He heard Hermione rise and collect the dirty plates before taking them to the sink to rinse. It wasn't until she returned, long legs tucked underneath her, that he reopened them.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Hermione offered, watching the fire burning brightly in the hearth.

The sleepy redhead shrugged. "How much money ya got?" Hermione laughed, bringing a smile to Fred's face. "Mum's on me to get married. Bill's done it, Percy's done it, George has done it. Hell, even Ginny's engaged. I think she's given up on convincing Charlie that it's time he settled down, and now she's moved on to me."

"Maybe you'll wear her down and she'll move on to Ron," Hermione replied, pulling up her right leg to rest her arm against her knee.

"I don't think I ever want to get married," he admitted. "After the war...hell, during the war, I didn't think I was gonna survive. That wall, I still think about it all the time. Not sure I've got the brain capacity to think about getting serious enough with anyone."

Hermione scooted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I didn't know," she whispered.

"Yeah, no one ever expects me to do anything but crack jokes and pull pranks," he snapped, his tone terse and sarcastic. The head on his shoulder rose, and Fred caught a quick glimpse of sad brown eyes staring back at him. "Sorry, it's not you I'm angry at."

She moved back against the back cushions and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I think about it a lot too," she admitted. "The battles, the final showdown, Malfoy Manor. It's hard not to think about it all."

He nodded in agreement and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks for listening to me," he murmured, standing up. "I'm gonna go to bed. Sleep tight."

"Yeah, you too, Fred," she replied with a sad smile.

Fred was near the kitchen when he stopped and turned around. "You reckon this was a date?"

"Still not a date," she informed him with a slight eye roll. "Go to bed."