** This is a series of drabbles, ficlets and one shots following our dear Fred and Hermione from June of 1995 (shortly before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament) to an as-of-yet undetermined point post-war.**
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28 June 1995
Hermione heard a knock at the door of her bedroom and looked up from her book. Given the sharp, playful cadence of the rapping, she was fairly certain she knew who it was. Her suspicions were confirmed when she bid them enter and Fred poked his head into the room slowly.
"See?" he said, one brow arched and a grin on his face as he stepped around the door. "That's how you're meant to enter a room with a closed door, lest you see something you shouldn't."
"Ha ha," Hermione intoned sarcastically.
Fred left the door half open, which for whatever reason seemed like a good idea, and settled on the edge of the mattress across from where she was seated. He'd changed into a pair of jeans and a striped t-shirt, both of which were much more conducive to her maintaining regular breathing and thinking patterns.
"How've you been, Granger?"
Hermione clipped the scrap of parchment she used as a bookmark in her novel and turned it sideways in her lap, fingers idly tracing the spine.
"Not bad; it's always nice to visit with my parents, even if it is a bit… well, complicated. How about you? Your mum said you've all been here a couple weeks already."
"It's been a little weird," Fred admitted. "Not the homiest of places, you know?"
"You don't say?" Hermione laughed, looking around the drab room. "My first impression involved being screamed at and called 'mudblood scum,' so I'll admit it's not quite as welcoming as The Burrow."
Though her tone was flippant, Fred looked a bit bothered by the remark. His face quickly cleared though, as he began to fill her in on the comings and goings of The Order members, as well as Sirius' ever-growing frustration at being parted from his Godson.
"I know, Dumbledore came to my house two days after I got back. He played it off to my parents as a routine visit to explain to them the importance of OWL exams this year, which they thankfully bought, but he took me aside and made me swear that I wouldn't write to Harry."
"Yeah, he did the same to us, only without the ruse," Fred added. "Bit messed up, isn't it? After everything that happened with Cedric and the graveyard."
"I can only imagine how alone he must be feeling," Hermione said, apprehensively chewing her lip. "Do you ever –? Never mind."
She bit the thought back, it being one she'd kept close to her chest for several years at that point. It had just been more at the forefront of her mind as of late.
"What?" Fred asked curiously, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He noted the way her eyes flickered to the half-open door and pulled his wand from his pocket, muttering a silencing charm.
"Oh, right, I forgot you can do that now," she said, sheepishly. Fred raised his eyebrows at her, and she voiced the thing she hadn't dared say to Harry. "Do you ever think that Dumbledore is sort of… manipulating us?"
"Oh, absolutely," Fred said, nodding. She was a little taken aback by how readily he agreed.
"Right? I understand that he obviously has loads of important responsibilities that we don't know anything about, but keeping Harry isolated, a lot of what happened last year with the tournament… even Sirius before that."
Fred nodded again. "I certainly don't think he's as grandfatherly and genial as he lets on. That said, I also don't know that he's necessarily bad."
"No, no not bad. Just… calculating." They drifted into silence for a moment before Hermione spoke again, tone even more tentative than it had been during her controversial remark about Dumbledore. "Fred, what happened with Percy?"
His normally pale face went chalk white, throwing his freckles into stark relief, and she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"Did mum tell you anything?" he asked, voice tight and lips pressed into a line.
Hermione shook her head. "She started to, but…"
"Right, yeah. The crying." He got to his feet and roughly ran a hand through his hair, setting it to stand on end.
"You don't have to tell me. I understand if it's a family issue."
"No, no, it's…" he sighed and turned back to her. "Percy and dad had a row a couple weeks ago. It was bad. Really bad. The man's raised seven kids, George and I included, and I've never seen him that angry before."
"Over what?" Hermione asked, trying and failing to picture Arthur Weasley truly cross about anything. The closest he'd come was a brief fistfight with Lucius Malfoy a couple years prior, and she knew from personal experience that the Malfoy men elicited that sort of response.
"I'm sure you've seen the headlines that The Ministry has been pumping out, right?" She nodded. "Well, Fudge made it clear that anyone that opposed them, or supported Harry, rather, might as well hand in their resignation."
"And he didn't?"
"He didn't just not take Harry's side, our side, he fucking used it to get promoted, Hermione."
"Oh," she replied lamely. She collected her thoughts before continuing. "I mean, that's terrible, but I don't know that it's –"
"That wasn't all," he cut her off with a dark look. "It was just sort of the jumping-off point. Percy then went on to explain in vivid detail all the ways in which our family has wronged him."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked slowly, acid bubbling in her stomach.
Fred's gaze dropped to the floor and fixed there before he clarified in an uncharacteristically cold, taut voice, "Well, he started with how much of an embarrassment dad is, continued on to explain that he's the reason we've never been particularly well-off financially, and then rounded it all out by calling us traitors and leaving."
"Oh God," she breathed, shocked. "That's outrageous. That's – how could he say something like that?"
"With his stupid, fucking nasally voice, that's how," Fred said bitterly, shaking his head. He was still standing and appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. She could see his chest rising and falling quicker than usual, angry red splotches having worked their way up his neck.
Hermione carefully got up from the chair, set her book on the seat behind her, and crossed the room. He looked down at her, a hint of something stormy and troubled in his eyes; adrift. It wasn't an expression she'd ever seen on him before, and it certainly wasn't one she wanted to see again.
That was perchance what prompted her next movement.
She took two more small steps, closing the gap between them, and wound her arms tightly around his middle, the fabric of his shirt soft against her cheek. He froze for a second, as still as a statue, before bringing his own arms up to wrap firmly around her shoulders. She let out a little sigh as she felt his chin come to rest on top of her head. He was warm and solid, and she folded into him with terrifying ease.
As she stood there, holding him, or perhaps being held by him, it was as if he melted. The tension slowly leached out of his shoulders and his back, and he released his own held breath in return.
"I missed you," he admitted quietly, so quietly that it was barely audible. He sounded as though the words were a surprise to him as well, and her pulse fluttered wildly.
Just then, they heard George half-shout from downstairs, "Oh, hello Ron! You are back! Yes, I do think Hermione is here! Maybe she is upstairs!"
They hurriedly stepped apart and Hermione returned to her chair. Fred cleared his throat, shaking himself, and released the silencing charm on the room. He casually resettled on the bed just before Ron entered.
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A/N: To all of my Dramione shippers, I do have something rather fun happening on my AO3 account this week. I'm previewing three potential new fics in order to gauge which one garners the most interest and should be worked on/finished first.
If you're at all curious you can pop over there and leave kudos/comments on your favorite one; it's the only collection on my profile. There's a darkfic Voldemort won AU, an eighth year hurt/healing, and a canon-divergent wartime fic starting in OotP.
No hard feelings if that isn't your vibe! Have a lovely week.