21 April 1996
"I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?" Fred asked George. Harry and Ron both looked a little awestruck and Hermione had to resist the urge to clunk their heads together like the nitwits they were.
"Easy," George replied, nodding.
"What sort of diversion is it?" Ron inquired, clearly dying to be in on the plan.
"You'll see little bro," said Fred as he and George got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor around five o'clock tomorrow."
oOoOoOo
"Tomorrow, then?"
Hermione had just shut the door on the balcony, which she'd ironically begun to think of as their balcony just a little bit too late, to see Fred leaning against the railing waiting for her. He'd apparently already placed their usual warming charms and, it being late in the evening, they'd both forgone their school robes in favor of more casual attire.
"Yeah," he sighed, bobbing his head and looking just a little grim before shaking it off. "Figured we might as well help Harry out if we can. Any idea what he so direly needs to speak to Sirius about?"
"Not a clue, but he's rattled about something," Hermione said, walking across the space to prop beside him. He dropped a kiss affectionately on the top of her head. "And I think he's lying to me."
"Perhaps we aren't the best people to pass judgement about that particular offense," he commented judiciously.
Though she'd been upset over the realization that he was leaving, and they lost even more time when she visited her parents for the Easter holiday rather than staying with The Weasleys, she'd decided to try and take the mature approach. As bitter a taste as that left.
It was quiet for a moment, the soft ambience of nighttime humming around them.
"Speaking of which," Hermione started, pulling in a deep breath and breaking the silence. "I want to tell everybody."
"Really?" Fred asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Yes," she confirmed. "After OWLs though, when I get to The Burrow this summer. You'll be staying at your flat anyway, so I reckon your mum won't be too uncomfortable with it. And Ron and Harry should have sufficient time to recover from the shock before fall term."
Rather than replying, Fred turned suddenly, scooped his arms around her waist, and began to spin them around.
"Fred!" She squealed, clinging to his shoulders while her legs flailed helplessly. "Put me down!"
After another second, he acquiesced only to kiss her firmly on the mouth, both of them tottering and dizzy.
"Mmm," she groaned, pressing into him. They snogged for a moment before she pulled back. "If I'd known how much you wanted to tell people, I'd have suggested it sooner."
"It's not that, really," he said, shaking his head. "Honestly, the sneaking about has been pretty fun. I just… it sort of feels like the next logical step, doesn't it?"
"And here I was thinking that saying I love you and getting a key to your home were sufficiently large steps," she teased. "Silly me."
He tweaked her on the nose, and she laughed again before scowling a little. "Okay, do you want the bad news now?"
"I'd say 'save it for tomorrow,' but all things considered…"
She stepped back to lean against the railing and bit her lip before saying, "I don't think we should write for the rest of term."
"Oh," Fred replied, clearly not expecting that. "I mean, that's alright I suppose. Why though? I've never known you to have an aversion to a quill and inkwell."
"I'm fairly certain that Umbridge is screening our mail, and the idea of her reading something that I'm saying to you in confidence makes me want to literally crawl out of my skin. But, I also don't fancy filtering our conversations down to idle talk about the weather and schoolwork."
He looked vaguely ill at the idea himself. "Fair enough. After tomorrow she may expel you simply for cavorting with the likes of me anyway."
Hermione arched a trepidatious brow. "Do I want to know what the two of you have planned?"
"No, absolutely not. Plus, it'll be more fun for you to see it in person. Just keep a safe distance and watch your shoes."
"Oh Merlin," she winced, laughing and shaking her head. "You'll give me grey hair before I've finished my NEWTs at this rate."
Fred looked sideways at her and picked up a curl, eyeing it incredulously. "I think you'd be incredibly fit with grey hair, actually."
"Yeah? You really think so?" She pushed him backward until he was against the wall. "Are you certain you don't just have a thing for older women?"
"Definitely not," Fred said solemnly, shaking his head. "In fact, you have five years tops before I trade you in for a younger model."
"Ugh!" She feigned affront as he placed his hand on her thigh and started to slowly lift her skirt. "You wouldn't dare."
"You clearly don't know me at all, darling." He shook his head morosely. "I dare. I always," his hand slipped beneath her knickers, "dare."
Her head fell backwards as he began to trail a finger in maddening circles. If their first night together in this way had been mind-boggling, which it most certainly had, the tête-à-têtes that followed had only become increasingly satisfying.
For all the joking about practice, there really was something to learning one another. What made him groan and sweat and beg her to keep going? What made her tremble and clench and dig her nails into his shoulders? Despite his OWL scores, Fred was just as quick a study as she was when he applied himself. And he most definitely applied himself.
"Given that it's my last night here before braving the cold, cruel world," Fred entreated, lightly biting where her neck met her shoulder, "Do you think that I'm entitled to a request?"
"Are you joking? No way! I'm the one that has to – oh God – stay here with Umbridge and her pack of goons."
Fred chuckled and then stepped back anyway, drawing his wand from his pocket. He muttered a conjuration charm and the small tan sofa he'd all but perfected sprang into existence in the corner of the balcony.
He tipped his head toward it and started to slowly roll up his sleeves. They hadn't explicitly talked about it, but he seemed to have noted that Hermione, though infuriated by it when done casually, rather liked taking direction in these more intimate circumstances.
She went and sat down while Fred pulled at his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. Expecting him to join her, she felt a flicker of confusion when he walked across the veranda and stopped directly in front of her instead.
"What are you –?"
And then he dropped to his knees.
Oh.
Oh.
She must have looked surprised because he grinned triumphantly and placed his hands on the tops of her thighs.
"You tell me if you're not comfortable or if you want me to stop, okay?"
Breathless and at a loss for words, she simply nodded. He'd tasted her before, licked her off his fingers, but they hadn't done this yet. It wasn't for any unwillingness on his part, rather a vein of lingering self-consciousness on hers.
Slipping his hands beneath her skirt again, he tucked it up around her waist, so she was in just a pair of dark blue knickers. He then looped his fingers through the band and tugged them down a little.
"Lift your hips for me, love."
Heart in her throat, she did as he'd instructed, kicking her shoes off in the process. He moved her legs to one side and slipped the scrap of fabric over her feet, hooking her socks as well. Then she was naked from the waist-down. Completely exposed.
Self-possessed demeanor dropping for a second, he gave her a reassuring smile, a Fred smile, and, mustering all the courage she was capable of, she parted her legs for him.
Maintaining eye contact, he turned his head and kissed the inside of her right knee. Then he moved up and did it again. Then again. All the while, ocean eyes boring into her and stripping her bare.
She let out a whimper but bit her lip, stifling it. Fred made a tutting sound under his breath and she felt his teeth lightly graze her inner thigh as he shook his head disapprovingly.
"None of that. I want to hear every pretty sound you make."
Already feeling as though lightning were coursing through her veins, she gasped when he put his hands firmly on her waist and tugged her closer to him, so she was seated almost hanging off the edge and his mouth was mere inches from the apex of her thighs.
Then, in one smooth motion, he closed the gap and she saw stars. She was stiff at first, but he lightly circled his thumb on the skin of her outer hip, coaxing her to unwind, and she relaxed a little. Then a little more.
She wasn't certain what to do with her legs but eventually she settled on bending her knees, so her left heel was braced on the edge of the sofa and the other calf came to rest lightly on Fred's shoulder. Given that he was wholeheartedly preoccupied, he didn't seem to mind.
His tongue began to circle in the same way his fingers had, the way he knew she liked, and she released a moan she was fairly certain she'd never produced before. The warmth, the pressure, all of it had her struggling to catch her breath.
Just when she thought it couldn't possibly feel better, he took his hand off her leg and pushed one finger inside of her, then closed his lips around her clit and lightly sucked.
She cried out and, without conscious thought, reached forward and knotted one hand in the back of his hair, holding him there. Responding exceptionally enthusiastically to this, Fred groaned in soft vibrations against her, the hand not already indisposed gripping her waist almost painfully.
"Don't stop," she all but begged. "Please don't stop."
He didn't stop and instead pushed a second finger into her. She tensed around it, arching her back and grinding her hips toward him. Whether this went on for seconds or minutes or hours, she couldn't be sure. Couldn't be bothered to care, either.
She was winding up, coiling, feeling as though she were about to tear apart at the seams.
And then she was in freefall.
She tried not to squeeze her thighs together too tightly for fear of strangling him, but frankly she'd never been less in control of her actions in her life. Fred just kept licking and sucking and curling his fingers inside of her until she was finally finished, panting and with a thin sheen of sweat over her entire body.
Extracting his hand, he kissed the inside of her leg again and then sat back on his heels.
His hair was standing on end, lips slicked and shining, but he looked both triumphant and amused; elated. Meanwhile, Hermione felt like she'd just run up every staircase in Hogwarts twice with all the books she owned strapped to her back.
"Alright there?" He asked, grinning at her like the cocky bastard he was as he dragged the back of his hand across his chin.
"If I can ever move again," she wheezed, "I'm going to get you back for that."
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
He grabbed her knickers and handed them to her before disentangling himself from her legs. She, with some effort, slipped them on and tucked her skirt back down.
Fred crawled up beside her and eased her into his lap with his back to the arm of the sofa. She craned her neck to kiss him, the musty scent of her clinging to his mouth and the taste still heavy on his tongue.
"Do you have prefect rounds tonight?" Fred asked, cradling her to his chest. She curled in and looped her arms around his waist.
"Nuh-uh," she said, shaking her head.
"Opposed to staying out past curfew?"
Normally she would say yes but, given the circumstances, she shook her head again.
"Good, that's good," he mused, nodding. "Because I plan to make you do that at least twice more before the sun comes up."
oOoOoOo
"George, I think we've outgrown full time education," Fred supposed, playing to their audience a little.
"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George replied with a sideways grin. Someone that didn't know the twins might think it was scripted, but she knew it wasn't.
Umbridge was in front of them, slowly turning a deep shade of violet in her thoroughly incensed state.
Hermione, on the other hand, was near the back of the crowd, arms crossed and leaning against the wall while she watched the spectacle. She laughed quietly under her breath and shook her head. Harry had just appeared across the corridor, so at least she no longer had to worry about him getting caught.
This man, the one captivating the entire school, delighting in torturing its psychotic headmistress, had been on his knees in front of her mere hours ago. He knelt for her. It was a little heady, that knowledge that she kept tucked to her chest. And he'd been right, of course; the swamp, though horrifying to her rule-abiding sensibilities, was extremely impressive.
Her throat tightened as the boys mounted their brooms, which were still wrapped in chains, and pushed off the ground. Then, with a salute from Peeves and a subtle wink in Hermione's direction, Fred and George Weasley flew off into the sunset.
The students were riotous, completely beyond containment, but as Hermione looked around, she quickly found the only other face that mirrored her own. Proud, entertained, but mostly sad.
As the crowd ran after the boys, watching as their silhouettes shrank against the ochre sky, she shuffled to her right, reached out, and gave Angelina's hand a light squeeze.