A/N: So, it's occurred to me that, because there isn't really a tagging system over here, it hasn't been made wholly clear that this story does feature the 'secret dating' trope. This will not last forever, but it is a plot point for a little while longer. Hang in there. End transmission.

oOoOoOo

14 August 1996

"So, you actually put – "

"Uh-huh, cat fur," Hermione affirmed, laughing and reaching up to accept the bottle of butterbeer Fred was handing her over the back of the sofa. They'd long since finished dinner, takeaway containers still strewn on the dining table, and had migrated to sit in front of the fireplace.

"I can't believe Ron hasn't told us that story," he mused, resuming his seat and placing her feet back in his lap.

"I made a number of threats to both his and Harry's person should anyone besides the two of them find out. I suppose he took me seriously."

"Alright, so that means it's my turn then…" Fred mused, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well, you were there for the incident with the age line sixth year."

Hermione snorted into her drink mid-sip and sputtered, vividly remembering said event. "I was, and I don't think I'll be forgetting about it in a hurry. No offense darling, but an enormous white beard might not be the best look on you."

He chuckled in agreement. "Oh! Okay, so when I was maybe six, we went to my Aunt Muriel's for Easter dinner and afterward I got into her rather extensive stash of sweets."

"Oh no," Hermione said with wide eyes, seeing instantly where this was headed.

"Oh yes. I ate no less than six whole packs of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and then proceeded to vomit both every flavor and every colour all over her very lavish, very beige sitting room."

"That's not embarrassing, it's just gross!" Hermione chastised, wrinkling her nose and giggling.

"I beg to differ!" Fred retorted, feigning affront. "I was really, very mortified. I still haven't been invited back to her house."

They both laughed quietly for a moment.

"Okay, your turn to come up with a question," Hermione finally said, poking him lightly in the ribs with her toes as he took a drink.

Fred swallowed and turned to look at her, free hand tracing the line of her calf. "How is it that you've always been able to tell George and I apart?"

"Mmm," Hermione hummed, leaning to the side and setting her bottle on the table beside them. "I was waiting for you to ask me that one again."

"In all the months we've been together, you've never told me."

"Oh, I'll tell you, but at this point I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed in my answer. There really isn't any sort of complex trick to it." Fred raised his eyebrows expectantly and she pressed on. "Well, as you know I took quite a bit of pleasure in knowing everything about everything when I was younger."

"When you were younger, huh?" Fred teased.

"Hey, if you don't want me to tell you –"

"Sorry, sorry, go ahead."

"Anyway, it bothered me to no end that I couldn't figure it out at first. Like a riddle niggling at the back of my brain. So, I started to pay attention, really close attention, and I eventually noticed that despite being identical, you and George have different freckles."

"Fair enough," Fred considered, nodding. "I could see how that would work up close. But you've positively identified me at twenty paces before."

"I have," Hermione confirmed, cringing at herself a little. "And that's the rather lame part, I suppose? You see, once I started watching the two of you, figured out who was who, I realised that your effect on me was the thing that varied. You always made me sort nervous and on edge. I never felt that with George, and I didn't actually realise why that was until last spring."

By the time she finished, she was biting the edge of her lip and her cheeks were on fire. Fred was staring at her with an indecipherable expression, as though it were the last thing he'd expected her to say.

She swallowed hard and added quietly, "I'm fairly certain that at this point I could be placed in a room with a hundred polyjuiced versions of you and still know which was the real you."

The mood went from light, humorous, to charged. Hermione knew when she made these plans that her spending the night came with a sort of implication; she wasn't about to sleep on the sofa, after all. But in the same respect she didn't want to push things.

Other than the day on the balcony two weeks prior, and a couple of quick, stolen kisses around The Burrow, they hadn't been together in any sort of physical sense since he was still at school. Since before.

"Want another drink?" Fred asked, jerking his chin toward the mostly empty bottle beside her. He seemed to have sensed the shift as well.

"No," she said, slowly shaking her head and smirking.

"More food?"

"All set."

"I think I have a gobstone set around here som-"

"We could go to bed," she suggested, holding her breath.

"It's hardly ten," he replied, squinting at her a little.

"I didn't say we had to sleep."

Well, if there was a question before there wasn't now.

"Right," he breathed in a huff, "Erm, give me a few minutes to straighten up?"

"Of course, I'll help."

They cleared away the butterbeer bottles and dirty plates, and then packaged the leftover takeaway up and put it in the fridge. It was all exceptionally domestic, but Hermione found that she didn't mind that. At least, she didn't mind it with Fred.

He'd just set the dishes to wash themselves in the sink and seemed a little unsure of exactly how to proceed now that the cleaning was accounted for.

"Do you want to…" he trailed off as Hermione stepped across the small kitchen to stand in front of him, close enough that their chests were nearly touching. She tipped her head back to look up at him.

"Do I want what?" she asked quietly, searching his face.

"I, umm… I don't remember."

He leaned down and captured her lips in a sudden, burning kiss, the taste of butterbeer still on his tongue. Hermione sighed, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other reaching around to clutch his back above the waistband of his jeans.

One of his hands wrapped around the back of her neck while the other cupped her bum. He carefully walked them backward into the hallway until they hit the wall, then turned and proceeded to guide her toward his bedroom.

After a little stumbling, and a little laughing as well, they arrived at the foot of his bed. He dipped to kiss along her throat below her jaw and she saw that the room was dimly lit by the streetlights outside filtering through the windows. As if reading her mind, Fred waved his hand and, silently and without looking, ignited the lamps on either side of his bed so the room was washed with warm, muted light. That was new, and it was both impressive and incredibly sexy.

That said, when he brought that same hand back to her waist and gripped the hem of her shirt, she firmly pumped on the brakes.

"Wait," she said quickly, jerking backward and out of his arms. Fred's expression immediately changed to one of concern and she flashed back to their first night on the balcony. This was different though.

"What's wrong?" he asked, brows tugging together.

Hermione swallowed hard and pulled in an uneven breath. She wasn't sure how much he'd seen that night two weeks prior at The Burrow and she felt it needed a little preamble because even just looking in the mirror still surprised her sometimes.

"It, umm…" she started. She trailed off, took another breath and closed her eyes before trying again. "It starts here," she said, pointing to her chest, just above her right breast. "And it ends here."

She trailed her finger over the raised mark, spanning nearly all the way down to her left hip.

When she opened her eyes again, Fred's expression had shifted from one of concern to one of thoughtfulness. It was gentle and open, and she couldn't imagine being this vulnerable with anyone else. Handing herself, scars and all, to another person.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not anymore."

He stepped slowly toward her and reached again for the hem of her shirt. Once he had it in his grip though, he stopped and waited. Watched her. And after one breathless, daunting moment, she nodded and raised her arms. He pulled the t-shirt smoothly over her head and discarded it on the floor.

Fred didn't look at her chest yet. He placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her slowly, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones. Hermione had never thought a kiss in itself could be reassuring, but this one was. It absolutely was. As she sank into it, into him, he reached around her back and unhooked her bra.

"First try," he muttered, grinning against her lips and she laughed lightly in spite of her nerves. She shrugged her shoulders one at a time and let the bra join her shirt on the ground.

He stepped back and reached over his shoulder to tug his own shirt off. Then, and only then, did Fred look at her. Merlin, the way he looked at her… The expression on his face wasn't pitying or repulsed or any of the things she'd told herself in those darkest moments it would be. It was just Fred. Warm and considerate and, most importantly, hers.

She shivered and he stepped toward her again. Then he dipped his head and trailed his mouth over the topmost edge of her scar.

It was sensitive and unexpected and so absurdly intimate, she stopped breathing entirely for a second. He slid his hands up the sides of her waist and kissed in a slow, steady track, over her sternum, between her breasts, and finally, when he reached the top of her stomach, he dropped to his knees.

Hermione trailed her fingertips through the hair on either side of his head, brushed over his temples, raking her nails lightly along his scalp and smiling when he shuddered. A warm exhale washed over her left hip. And then they both stopped moving for a moment. Paused. Froze.

He was still kneeling in front of her, forehead resting against her ribs while she cradled his head to her, and the rest of the world just sort of fell away. It wasn't as if the past several months hadn't happened, pretending that was the case would be a disservice in more ways than one, but it was like they had come out on the other side of a storm. Older, maybe a little bit worse for wear in some ways, but together nonetheless.

Eventually he sighed and shook his head, getting to his feet.

"I just don't understand it," he muttered, brow furrowed in incredulity, standing in front of her again with his arms looped around her waist.

"Understand what?" she asked, tilting her chin.

"How it's possible. How I can look at you and just feel… everything."

Hermione smiled and leaned up to kiss him before drawing back again. Then she deliberated for a moment. She hadn't been sure when she'd gotten there what she wanted to do, how far she wanted things to go, but standing in front of him, feeling safer and more loved than she'd ever felt in her life, she did know. With absolute certainty.

"Make love to me," she entreated, quietly but clearly. "If you're… if you want to, that is."

It wasn't surprise that flashed across his face, not entirely at least, but more a sense of responsibility.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because we could stop right now and I'd be completely happy with that, Hermione. More than happy with it. You've been through a lot and I don't want you to feel any sort of pressure to-"

"Fred, my heart's already yours. I want to give you the rest of me too."

He offered her a nervous smile and nodded. She stepped back and unbuttoned her shorts, pushing them down past her hips along with her knickers. There wasn't any point in dancing around it.

"Bloody hell," Fred groaned, wiping a hand over his face and covering his mouth when he finally saw her completely naked, standing in his bedroom.

"That bad, huh?" She laughed, glancing down at herself. Barring the scar and The Great Red-lingerie crisis, she'd never been particularly self-conscious. She knew she wasn't supermodel skinny; she had a little belly and her hips dipped in on the sides, and her thighs had a few dimples up near her butt. But her body, flawed though it might be to an outside party, had seen her through a hell of a lot, and she loved it for that. And moreover, she knew Fred did too.

"I'm just thinking that I must have been a saint in my former life," Fred clarified, shaking his head.

She rolled her eyes and then looked pointedly at the jeans that were still on his body.

"Off with them, Weasley."

Still looking bemused, he unbuttoned his trousers, pulled the zip down, and then shoved them to the floor along with his boxer shorts and stepped out.

She blew out a hefty sigh, lips buzzing together a little as she took him in.

"That bad, huh?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hardly," she said skeptically, gaze sweeping over his body and dawdling briefly between his hips with a newfound consideration for what they were about to do. "I'm just a little concerned I may have overestimated the logistics of this."

He shook his head and laughed. "Go lay down before you inflate my ego so much that I float away."

Hermione took a few steps to the side and settled on the edge of the half-made bed before scooting up to the pillows and lying back. It was just as comfortable as she'd imagined it would be the first time she'd been there.

Fred climbed on as well, kneeling between her parted legs.

"What are you doing?" she asked in surprise when he shuffled back and lowered his mouth to her left hip, where he'd left off earlier.

"Well," he murmured, kissing the top of her thigh, "I want to do everything I can to make this good for you. And to be perfectly honest, it's been a while since… and we've never… I just mean, this may be over more quickly than might be ideal."

The self-consciousness in his eyes somehow smoothed the frayed edges of her own nerves. She propped herself on her elbows and looked down at him.

"Hey," she said quietly. Fred glanced back up. "It's us. Anything that happens or doesn't happen is okay. And besides, we're very good at practicing."

His shoulders relaxed a little, he nodded, and then in one fell swoop he dropped his mouth over her, and she fell back onto the pillows again. Given that he had only done this once before, it went astoundingly quickly. She gave some credit to the circumstances themselves as well. The knowledge that she was in his bed, surrounded by the familiar smell of him, the complete privacy and time that they'd never really had before.

Fred eased one finger into her, then two, seeming to make more of an effort to move them and stretch her than he had in the past. She certainly wasn't complaining. All the while his tongue flicked and circled and sucked in a dizzying array of sensations.

"Don't stop," she eventually gasped, rolling her hips off the bed. He followed her command with pleasure before finally shoving her tumbling over the precipice. The muscles in her abdomen clenched and she turned her head, cry muffled by the pillow.

Finally, after, she relaxed, panting and coming to the realisation that her own fingers, when compared to that, were slightly inadequate.

"Problem?" Fred asked curiously, spying the slightly irritated expression on her face and looking amused.

"I think you've ruined masturbating for me," she lamented, still breathing heavily and feeling a little miffed. Fred absolutely guffawed.

"More's the pity, darling," he finally said, not looking remotely apologetic as he crawled up to lay next to her. "More's the pity."

She caught her breath for a second.

"Alright, contraception charm," she said. "I don't fancy the Improper Use of Magic Office bursting in here, so I'll leave it to you."

Fred, once again surprising her, put his hand out and muttered, "Accio." His wand flew from the pocket of his discarded jeans on the ground and landed squarely in his palm.

She made a note to ask him about the wandless magic later.

He leaned up, directed the wand to point over her abdomen, and repeated the charm that Madam Pomfrey was responsible for disseminating to every Hogwarts student in their fourth year. Her lower stomach glowed dimly for a second before the light dissipated.

"Huh," Fred mused, thoughtfully. "Did that feel like anything?"

She shook her head. "Not really… maybe a little tingly."

He considered this for a moment before seeming to remember what they were casting the charm for in the first place.

"Okay, how do you want to go about this?" Fred asked gamely.

"Would it be okay if I'm on top? I just think I might be a little more comfortable directing things this go-round."

Fred nodded and smiled again, adding a little self-deprecatingly, "Hermione, I'm about to have sex for the first time. There's very little you could suggest right now that I wouldn't be okay with."

He laid on his back and shifted to the middle of the bed. She eyed him thoughtfully for a second before suddenly ducking her head and taking him in her mouth as far as she could, holding her hair to one side.

"Holy – love, that's – blokes don't work like that," he stuttered, hips bucking upward.

She laved her tongue over him for just a minute, before pulling back again to see a slightly strangled expression on his face.

"Lubrication," she explained matter-of-factly, and he made a weak sound in the back of his throat.

She crawled up, leaning over him on all fours with her knees on either side of his stomach.

"If it hurts or doesn't feel right –"

"I know," she assured him, dipping down to place a slow kiss on his lips. Not wanting to waste the additional moisture she'd introduced to the situation, she rocked her hips back and felt him slide along her center, warm and wet. They both shuddered.

Seeing as her arms were busy supporting her body, Fred reached down and positioned himself at her entrance. His other hand rested lightly on her hip; his thumb circled lightly, and she took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she eased him inside of her.

It didn't hurt, not really. There wasn't any dramatic tearing or bleeding. It was more of a fullness, a pressure, than anything else. When he was perhaps halfway, she stopped and took another breath, adjusting to the sensation that was simultaneously familiar and completely new.

"A-are you okay?" She asked, taking note of the strained expression on his face below her.

"Yeah, just… just a second." Fred closed his eyes and she stayed completely still while he pulled in a few deep breaths of his own. "Okay, go ahead."

She leaned back further, letting his hand on her hip guide her, until finally he was seated entirely inside of her, her inner thighs coming to rest on his hips. She pushed off her arms and carefully sat back.

"Oof," she huffed. She wasn't sure she'd be able to climax this way at first, but her clit bumped against him where they were connected and her opinion on the matter very quickly changed.

"Holy fuck," Fred groaned. His hands were on either side of her waist and his fingers flexed and gripped her. "You feel… holy fuck, Hermione."

She started to laugh, which apparently had a bit of a tightening effect because she abruptly cut off and they both gasped. She wasn't hellbent on coming this way, not their first time at least, but seeing as they were already there, it was worth a shot.

Balancing on her knees, she experimentally rocked up and forward until he was almost completely out of her and then she sat back again.

Fred was breathing as though he was nearing the last leg of a marathon, his face and chest flushed. It felt good, really good, but she remembered that brief moment of friction and, making eye contact with him as she did it, she brought her hand to the apex of her thighs and began to touch herself with him inside of her. Now that felt great.

His eyes widened at first but, realising what she was hoping to achieve, his hold on her waist tightened a little and he rocked back into the mattress and then pushed up into her. He did it slowly once and then again, falling into a controlled rhythm while she flicked her fingers over herself.

It was an impossible cocktail of feelings, and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across her body. As he brought his hips up to meet hers, she rolled forward and tipped her head back, letting her hair cascade over her shoulders and planting the hand that wasn't busy on his chest to steady herself. She could feel his heart pounding like a battering ram beneath it.

A few minutes passed before Fred groaned and bit out through his teeth, "Love, I don't know if I can – bloody hell, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out here."

"I'm close," she gasped, rocking and grinding against him in what she could only describe as a lust-fueled fervor by that point. She fell forward completely, bracing and supporting herself on her left arm beside his shoulder while the fingers on her right hand kept circling and flicking, frantically, desperately, until – "Oh God, I'm going to come. Fred, I – I – "

She cried out incoherently, clenching around him while her hand balled into a fist, gripping the sheets. Her forehead dropped to rest against his shoulder and her eyes squeezed shut. As she rode the shockwaves of her orgasm, Fred suddenly locked one arm behind her lower back and the other across her shoulders, squeezing her against him like a vice.

He thrust up and into her hard twice before stilling and coming with a positively raw, throaty groan beside her ear. It was unbearably arousing; to not only hear and see him completely and totally unravel, but to feel it too. To actually feel his hips stutter and jerk, his hand cup her ass and pull her against him in a futile attempt to get deeper, closer.

Having recovered a little, she rolled her hips as he finished, tightening around him and eliciting a truly vibrant string of curse words that made her smile. Finally, he stilled and quieted, and the only sound in the room was their loud, labored panting.

"You didn't give yourself enough credit," she huffed, flopped forward and boneless with her cheek resting against his shoulder and their chests pressed together. Despite the fact that they were both roughly the temperature of the sun, Fred's arms were still around her back, holding her to him.

"I have never in my life tried so hard to not do something," he replied, sounding a little shell-shocked.

Apparently sex had an impact on her short term memory because she laughed again and they both hissed at the resulting effect.

"Alright, I need to go and clean myself up," she finally said. It didn't seem like there was any point in mincing words considering he was actively dripping out of her, and they were both presumably aware of that fact.

He nodded and assisted in easing her up and off of him. She had George's solemn word that he wouldn't be returning that evening so, after hesitating briefly, she made a nude dash to the loo a few feet down the hall.

Hermione quickly concluded that cleaning up after sex was significantly less erotic than having sex. She took her time, going to the bathroom and then splashing a little cool water on her neck and face.

She then hastened back to the bedroom and shut the door behind her with a quiet click. Fred was still in bed, though she assumed he had cleaned up as well, the covers now pulled up to his waist. She debated retrieving the pyjamas she'd brought, but she spotted the Weird Sisters t-shirt he'd discarded earlier on the ground and snatched that instead.

Once that was on, baggy and just barely brushing the tops of her thighs, Fred pulled the edge of the blanket back and she slipped in beside him. He'd apparently cast a charm to cool and refresh the sheets and if she didn't love him before, she would have purely for that.

He slid closer to her and she rolled over, feeling him immediately spoon himself around her. It felt like he'd put his boxer shorts back on as well.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked, sounding completely satisfied and not just a little tired. He'd turned off the lights and the room was composed of dark shades of grey from the streetlights outside.

She grinned. "I mean, it wasn't bad –"

He reached down and pinched her bum and she laughed, trying and failing to wiggle away. Fred nuzzled his head into the crook of her shoulder, dropping light, lazy kisses beneath her ear and across the back of her neck.

"It was amazing," she said sincerely, reflecting on the experience. "Honestly, I thought people were exaggerating a little."

Fred chuckled and nodded. "I knew it'd be good, especially with you, but that…"

It was quiet for a moment, even the city outside beginning to drift into unconsciousness.

"Thank you for being my first."

Hermione felt sleep quickly approaching and she sank backward into him, giving into it without a fight.

The last thing she heard as she began to drift was, "With any luck, I'll be your last."