The Sixth Time

The apartment was dark when Fred entered after a long day of work. The shop had been hectic; customers packed in the space from the time they opened until closing. All he wanted was a shot of firewhiskey, a hot shower, and his bed. He flicked on the living room light only to find a note attached to the lampshade.

Meet me on the roof.
-H

Fred rolled his eyes and tossed it away. After their fight, tension had been high between the roommates. For two weeks, they ate their meals in shifts and remained locked away in their rooms, coming out only to use the bathroom or eat. He always made sure to be up before her to get to work in the morning, and always came home hours after the store closed.

He picked up the note and reattached it to the lamp. Hopefully she would believe that he never saw it and that was why he never met her. Shoes off and t-shirt discarded on the floor, he worked on his belt as the water heated up in the shower. Confident that it had reached a comfortable temperature, Fred removed his remaining articles of clothing and stepped under the spray. His eyes closed immediately as the hot water pelted his sore back muscles.

With his eyes closed he envisioned Hermione sitting on the rooftop, two glasses of wine and a picnic blanket spread out. She would watch the stars until he joined her. And when he didnt, she would pack it all up and make her way back down. Her bedroom door would close quietly so as to not disturb him, and then she would cry herself to sleep.

The water was quickly shut off as he stepped out of the shower. Hastily, he dried himself off with the hand towel Hermione kept near the bathroom sink. He quickly pulled his clothes back on, forgoing the shoes, and sprinted up to the roof. Two wine glasses sat, still full, on the ledge that surrounded the roof. Hermione leaned against it as she stared up at the stars and below to people watch in Diagon Alley.

"I'm sorry," he said in a rush as he fought to breathe normally. Hermione spun around, wearing a sad smile.

"It's fine," she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. She picked up a glass and took a small sip before setting it back down. Her back to Fred once more as he stood still. "It's a really pretty night. You can see Cassiopeia tonight."

One foot in front of the other, he finally joined her. "It is pretty," he agreed. He picked up the other wine glass and took a hearty sip. "It's not as pretty as you though."

Her head turned and an incredulous smile lit up her face. "Did you really think that line would work?"

Fred laughed. "Had to try."

The pair stared up at the night sky, pointing out constellations and making new patterns as they traced the stars with their fingers. The bottle of wine had been finished off as they lay down on the blanket Hermione had spread out. She rolled onto her side, and leaning on her elbow, rested her head on her hand. Fred copied her position and smiled.

"Drunk now?" he asked. Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Good."

They leaned in towards each other with eyes closed as lips brushed against lips. It was a soft, tentative kiss, one to merely test the waters.

"I'm sorry about the fight," she whispered when he pulled away.

"Are you sorry about the kiss?" he asked, brushing away a stray curl that fell against her cheek.

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Which one?" came her cheeky reply. Fred kissed her once more, this time with more passion and less hesitation. "Definitely not that one," she decided.

"What about the ones the night of the ball?" he wondered nervously.

She sighed and rolled onto her back. "I think I should have been." Her gaze remained trained on the stars that burned brightly above them. "Because on the one hand, you're Ron's brother. The brother who used to tease me for reading and knowing the answers to every question. On the other hand, though, when I needed a place to stay you took me in. Whenever I've needed someone to talk to, you were there to listen. When I wanted to kill Ron, you offered to take care of it. You make me laugh. I'm happy every time you're around."

The grin grew on Fred's face as he reached his arm across her waist to pull her nearer to him. "You left out 'you're an amazing kisser. Best I've ever had in my whole life'." And then he kissed her as if to prove his point. "I'm happy whenever you're around too," he admitted.

"So, what do we do now?" she wondered.

"Shag?" Fred asked, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

He received a backhanded slap to the bicep for that comment. "Try again. And just this once, for me, try to be serious."

"We could give this a go, you and me," he offered, tightening his arm around her waist.

For her part, Hermione pretended to mull over his suggestion; holding out until his wandering hands found their way under her sweater. With a shocked gasp and widened eyes, she swatted away his hands. "Not until you buy me dinner, at least," she joked, linking their fingers together. Their mouths moved against each other once more, deepening and exploring new territory. A chill ran down her spine as a gust of wind passed over the rooftop.

"Let's go inside," Fred murmured, though he wouldn't detach his lips from Hermione. She agreed and stop with him, slipping her hand inside of his. They stopped just outside of their bedroom doors. "I should probably let go now, huh." Instead, his hand tightened around hers.

"Probably," she agreed, doing nothing to break their contact.

His free hand ran through his hair as he nervously spoke. "So, I know I've asked this before, and it's sort of become an annoying joke between us, but is this a date?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, Fred. This was a date."