27 December 1996
Hermione teetered for a moment upon stepping off of the Knight Bus, her sense of direction having been completely turned on its head no less than three times during the short journey from Hampstead.
"Thanks, Ernie!" She called over her shoulder to the elderly driver as the doors shut behind her and the vehicle took off once again, like a shot. Given that she was spending the remainder of her vacation at the twins' flat, she was toting not only her school trunk, burdensome as it was, but also a rather incensed Crookshanks.
Not wanting to dawdle outside, she flicked her wand and levitated both behind her, the latter grumbling in his carrier none-too quietly. The bell jingled overhead as the door swung open, and Hermione was thrust into a slightly more subdued version of the shop than that of her initial visit.
There were still plenty of people milling about, holiday money heavy in their pockets, but it was slow enough that she didn't have any trouble making it to the till with Crookshanks and her luggage in tow.
"Hermione!" George exclaimed upon seeing her, rushing around the counter to sweep her into a crushing hug. "I thought you weren't coming until later."
"Change of plans," she laughed, feet dangling an inch or two above the ground before he lowered her again. "My mum had something come up at the practice, so I figured I might as well head over."
"Wait," he said, suddenly serious and pushing her backward by the shoulders. "What did I go watch at Lee's over the summer when you came over here to seduce my poor, unsuspecting brother?"
"The Three Stooges, ya porcupine," she replied, amused and pantomiming smacking him on top of his head with her fist. "I appreciate the diligence, but I don't think anyone would be crazy enough to replicate or kidnap Crookshanks to pull off this ruse."
George and Hermione both peered at him in his carrier and, as if on cue, the half-kneazle hissed, bottle-brush tail flicking sullenly back and forth behind him in the shadows.
"Right," George said slowly, suddenly seeming a bit less keen on their feline houseguest. "Well, Fred is downstairs if you want to go frighten the life out of him. He still thinks he's meant to side-along you later."
Hermione grinned and quickly made for the storeroom door, depositing Crookshanks and her belongings behind the counter as she went.
"No funny business!" She heard George warn as she started down the stairs. "I still need him until Lee comes on at four!"
Reaching the landing at the bottom, Hermione was surprised to see that the boys had constructed a veritable labyrinth of crates and shelves, composed of both ingredients and finished products.
"What on earth…" she muttered, delving into the nearest opening and peeking around stacks as she went. She heard a quiet rustling and paused to listen. Then there was humming, a Weird Sisters tune she'd heard more than once on the wireless.
After picking a path around and doubling back twice, Hermione finally arrived at the end of an aisle and saw Fred. He was crouched low, deep in thought and selecting what looked like pieces of Valarian root from a larger crate and moving them into one that, given its mixed contents, appeared destined for the workroom upstairs.
His hair was shorter than it had been the last time she'd seen him, and he was clad in a dark turtleneck with tan trousers and dragonskin boots, indicating that he was brewing that day.
For a second she just stared, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of how much she'd missed him. The visceral pull that being near him again brought.
It wasn't like it had been in the shack the last time she'd seen him, all fervor and heat, and it took her a moment to put her finger on why precisely that was. When she saw Fred this time, puttering about the storeroom of the shop in a moment of completely routine normality, not even aware he was being watched, Hermione felt a profound sense of belonging. Certainly more than she felt at her parents' house, and more even than at The Burrow or Hogwarts.
Not a flame burning in her chest, bright and scorching, but an ember. White-hot coals, glowing and fading steadily without any threat of being extinguished. The sort that turn water to steam before it even makes contact, and keep you warm for hours on end. A hearth. A home.
Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, this reverie was interrupted when Fred glanced down the aisle where she was standing, still half-concealed by a stack of crates. He looked back at what he was doing for a split-second before his eyes went wide and his head snapped back in her direction.
Hermione grinned, raised her hand, and wiggled her fingers in a wave. He was in front of her so quickly, she might have guessed he'd apparated if it wasn't for the wards on the building disallowing such things. He didn't say anything, didn't even kiss her; he just wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her against his chest, and held her tightly to him.
"Hello, love," Hermione said softly, breathing in and reveling in the familiar feel of him as she smoothed her hands over the lines of his back and shoulders.
"Hermione," Fred sighed, cheek resting atop her head. Finally, he leaned away, looking her up and down. She realized she was still clad in full outerwear, complete with a cap and gloves. "How did you get here? I thought I wasn't coming to get you until five."
"I have my ways," she replied cryptically, taking her mittens off and stowing them in the pocket of her coat.
Fred didn't seem interested in questioning it, ducking down and kissing her instead. She groaned quietly; perhaps it was superficial, but she'd missed the feel of his mouth on hers nearly as much as she'd missed him.
He tugged down the zip on her coat and fished his arms beneath it, wrapping them around her waist before one hand dropped and gave her bum a light squeeze.
Hermione giggled and backed up a step to put him at arm's length. "None of that!" She chided, "I promised George that my being here wouldn't distract you."
Fred made a discouraged sound, like a child that had just had his favorite toy revoked. "Fat chance of that," he commented sullenly, turning toward the forgotten crate he'd been filling. "He's right, though. I still have four different potions to brew before Lee comes in."
"Can I help?" Hermione asked eagerly.
Thus, they found themselves upstairs several hours later, toiling away in quiet companionship. Hermione had braided her hair back, the humidity created from several steaming cauldrons taking no prisoners with her curls, and Fred had traded in his jumper for a dark purple t-shirt with the WWW logo on it.
Upon emerging from the basement Hermione had quickly gone upstairs to say hi to Angelina, deposit her bags, and unleash Crookshanks. Taking care to ward the flat so he couldn't wander too far, she and Angie watched, amused, as he darted from his carrier and promptly disappeared beneath the sofa.
She'd just set a cauldron of pimple-vanisher to simmer when George ducked his head into the workroom.
"Can one of you watch the till? I need to run upstairs and use the loo."
"I've got it," Hermione volunteered, wiping her hands on a rag and stepping away from the table. Fred just smiled and nodded, carefully counting drop number seventeen of the thirty drops of castor oil that needed to be added to the potion bubbling in front of him.
Hermione followed George out behind the counter, and he nodded gratefully before turning to disappear upstairs. She finished checking out a middle-aged woman with what seemed to be the entire collection of Wonder Witch products when a small blonde girl of perhaps twelve stepped up to the counter.
"Is this all for you?" Hermione asked distractedly, busily totaling the cost of the products. She gestured to several packages of miniature fireworks. "You know, these are four for ten if you want to go grab another."
When no reply came, Hermione looked up to find the girl staring at her with what appeared to be recognition, as well as something else that wasn't overly friendly. In fact, it was borderline hostile. Hermione concluded inwardly that she was most likely a younger student from another house and brushed it off. Regardless, the little girl shook her head and Hermione shrugged, bagging the products and accepting the money that she pushed across the counter, making change and handing it back.
"Have a good day!" Hermione called after her, but the girl was already halfway to the exit, bag swinging at her side. Hermione made sure the till was organized before shutting the drawer, muttering under her breath. "That was odd…"
"What was odd?" George asked, swinging around the doorway that led to the stairs.
"That little girl. She just… I don't know, she was staring at me strangely."
"What'd she buy?" George inquired further, not sounding exceedingly concerned as he rooted through a box of miscellaneous products that needed to be replaced on the shelves. Hermione grabbed the receipt and looked it over.
"Two trick wands, a Fanged Frisbee, three Whizz Poppers, a package of Canary creams, and two satchels of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."
oOoOoOo
"It's been a while, are you sure you want to do this? No warm-up? Perhaps a bit of stretching?"
"It's not my first time, Fred. You know that I'm more than capable of taking you."
"And if it's too much? I don't want to hurt you."
Hermione made a scoffing sound, but Fred pursed his lips insistently at her.
"Alright, fine. Yes. I'll tell you if I need a break." He looked like he was weighing if she was being honest before nodding.
He stepped across open area in the basement, cracking his knuckles and she felt a sudden rush of anticipation, rolling her wand between her fingers.
"Okay, ground rules: Nothing we can't easily heal, no unforgivables, and nothing with prolonged or delayed effects."
She arched a brow as she fastened her hair elastic more securely and Fred explained there'd been an incident the month prior with Lee, Angelina, and a persistent case of boils.
"Ready?" he finally asked, to which she nodded. They both bowed dramatically and, not wasting even a second upon straightening, Hermione fired a leg-locking curse that Fred just barely sidestepped. There was a pause, weighted with adrenaline and excitement, and then they were both shielding and trading spells, rapid-fire.
Though Fred had been practicing seriously two or three times a month with their makeshift dueling club, Hermione actually had a competent DADA professor that term, so they were more evenly matched than one might have expected.
About five minutes in, Fred suddenly conjured several spheres of water, pelting them at her in quick succession. Hermione silently raised a shield, something she had a knack for, but not before the first hit her square in the chest, soaking her t-shirt and pasting it lewdly to her middle. He grinned, examining his handiwork, and she took advantage, firing a stinging charm at his thigh that made him yelp.
He stumbled and she barked out a disarming spell between labored breaths, watching victoriously as his wand skittered out of his hand and across the floor. Hermione walked over to collect it, taking her eyes off of him as she did so, and was thus completely caught off-guard then she was hit with a tripping jinx, sprawling suddenly across the cellar ground with an inelegant, "Oof."
Her wand, and Fred's, were summoned from her surprised, lax grip a split-second later, leaving her disarmed and more than a little beguiled.
Hermione rolled onto her back to see Fred standing over her with a victorious, if slightly sympathetic, expression.
"You almost had me," he admitted, offering a hand to help her up.
"I did have you," she remarked sullenly as she took it, though it was lacking any true vitriol. The only thing damaged was her pride. "I disarmed you."
"No, you took my wand," he corrected judiciously, brushing dirt off her shoulder and tucking a curl behind her ear.
She sighed and accepted the length of vinewood he'd extended to her, looking at it contemplatively for a moment.
"How do you do wandless magic?" she finally asked. She'd wanted to bring it up over the summer but hadn't gotten around to it.
Fred's brows raised and then drew together. "Well, its — I guess I just — umm, I'm not sure." She just blinked at him expectantly and he tipped his head to a couple chairs that were pushed against the wall, running a hand over the back of his neck.
"I started to toy around with it over the summer while… well, when I needed something to keep busy with."
"I've been trying," she said, sinking into the chair, "but I can't seem to make it work. It's like trying to move through molasses."
"You're probably overthinking it," Fred explained thoughtfully as he sat down. "It should feel natural. Magic is much older than wands are, and a lot of cultures still don't use them."
She nodded, well aware of this, and watched as he conjured a small, smooth rock and dropped it into her palm. He placed his hand under hers and, a second later, the rock floated a few inches into the air, rotating slowly as they both watched.
Hermione felt a subtle hum of magic where his fingers brushed her knuckles and released a shuddering breath. The sheer proximity to that small expression of power and control was both incredibly intimate and borderline erotic. Not the magic itself, but the calm surety with which he wielded it.
"You try," he prompted, releasing the spell and letting the rock fall back into her hand, completely unaware of the effect he'd had on her. "Say the incantation if you need to; silent and wandless is a tall order."
She nodded, grateful when he kept his hand beneath hers. Fred watched patiently, not even the barest hint of judgement in his expression. Just encouragement, and perhaps a little curiosty.
Nonverbal magic wasn't particularly difficult for her, so she didn't think that saying it aloud would help, but after several minutes of trying both verbally and non-verbally, and absolutely nothing happening, she began to grow frustrated and speak aloud.
"I can't get it," she finally sighed, discouraged and annoyed with herself. She could feel the magic, reach out and touch it, but it was like she couldn't quite make it bend to her will. She looked up to find Fred was no longer watching her, but was rather glancing around them slowly with an amused, if slightly stunned expression.
"I think you're closer than you think, love."
She followed his gaze and realized with a start that everything in their immediate vicinity — chairs, boxes, shelves — was hovering several inches above the ground.
"Oh."
It all dropped at once with a chorus of quiet thuds and Fred, chuckling, shook his head at her.
"I guess I'll keep practicing," Hermione muttered sheepishly, cheeks heating as he reached out and tweaked her nose.
A second later, George's voice rang out from around the corner of a nearby shelf. "Everyone clothed?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, George, it was one time!" Hermione called back, rolling her eyes when he appeared with a waggish grin.
"One can never be too cautious when one's brother's bare ass is concerned," he reasoned sagaciously. "Ancient Chinese proverb. Any who! Alicia and Katie came bearing pizza and butterbeer, it's up in the flat."
Fred got up and extended a hand again, the three of them heading toward the stairs with Hermione's fingers twined in his. As they began to climb, George glanced back over his shoulder with an inquisitive brow raised.
"Do I want to know why Hermione is all wet?"