29 December 1996
"You missed a parenthesis on the second equation, that's why it isn't balancing out."
Fred appeared from seemingly nowhere, bent and peering over her shoulder.
"What?" Hermione asked, startling a little. She raked her eyes over the parchment in front of her, covered in the partial solution for an arithmancy problem that had her ready to rip her hair out. "No, I couldn't possibly have – "
And then she saw that he was absolutely correct. She was set up on the balcony of the flat, wrapped in warming charms with a steaming cup of tea on the small table beside her and he'd just gotten out of the shower after being relieved by Verity in the shop below.
"Bugger," Hermione sighed, vanishing most of the writing on the page and going back to rework the second equation. "Since when are you an arithmancy prodigy?"
Fred grinned and shrugged, hair still damp and a bit darker than usual. "George and I had to alter a transfiguration charm with similar spell theory for the portable swamps."
He settled into the chair beside her, and Hermione traded her notebook for the tea, vowing to finish the exercise later that evening. It was silent for a few moments, the sounds of the city a dull hum in the background.
"So, I wanted to show you something," Fred began slowly, extracting a folded envelope from his back pocket. He handed it over to Hermione, who accepted it curiously and set her mug back down. He seemed… anxious?
She opened the flap and extracted a letter, tri-folded and covered in neat lines of curling black script. At least, she thought it was a letter until she began to read. Then she surmised that it was actually a business proposition.
"Holy cricket, is this for the portable library?" Flourish and Blotts' letterhead was at the top, and there was a proposal with a monetary figure in the middle of the page that had her eyes bulging a bit.
"You were right," Fred said, smile widening further. "I mean, of course you were right. Apparently they were very interested in not only the patent for the portable library, but in purchasing exclusive rights to it."
"Fred, that's amazing! Congratulations."
Hermione half-rose and leaned over the table between them to give him a quick kiss, laughing elatedly against his lips as she did so. Then she leaned back and finished reading the contract summary. It seemed plenty fair considering the recent, sharp economic downturn.
"In that vein, there's something else that I wanted to give you as well."
Fred extracted yet another envelope and handed it over to her.
"Good Godric, you're like an owl today," Hermione chuckled, but her smile froze in place when she opened this one and saw not a letter, nor a business agreement, but a cheque. For nearly two-thousand galleons. Addressed to her. She blinked several times, as if the punctuation on the number might shift to a more reasonable position. It didn't. "What is this?"
Fred stirred nervously in his seat, eyes locked on her face. "Half of the proceeds from the sale of the patent, as well as twenty percent of the profits for each product that you helped come up with or gave advice on when we were in school."
She was already shaking her head, replacing the cheque in the envelope and shoving it back toward him. "Absolutely not, no. I can't accept this."
"Hermione – "
"Fred, that's not why I helped with those things!" she cried, "I didn't want – that's your money, yours and George's. Well-deserved and hard-earned."
"I wouldn't have even come up with the idea without you, let alone thought to patent it. Plus, I've already talked to George, and he agrees that the rest is absolutely fair. I've kept track of the sales since opening and this is your share."
Fred stubbornly stuffed his hands beneath his thighs and shook his head, refusing to accept the envelope being jabbed into his midsection.
"Come now, be serious – this is absurd!"
"No, what's absurd is –" Fred didn't finish though. He cut off and his eyebrows drew together. Meanwhile, she slumped against the back of the chair and let the envelope settle in her lap, waiting impatiently for him to see reason. He drew in a deep breath before speaking again. "What's absurd is how much you've done for me. And I know, I know that's not one-sided, but I wouldn't be where I am, hell, who I am, without you. George is my brother, he's my partner in all things crime and chaos, but you… you're my partner in everything else, Hermione. You have been for a while. And yes, you do also assist with the crime and chaos from time to time. Hence the cheque."
He added the last as an apparent afterthought, along with a cheeky smirk, and Hermione huffed a weak laugh before turning back to the piece of paper in her lap. She was gnawing the inside of her bottom lip so hard, it was a miracle it wasn't bleeding.
"If this is just twenty percent of some of the products, you must be doing better than you let on over the summer." Fred shrugged again, but she didn't miss the self-satisfied expression that flickered across his face. "You really won't take it back, will you?"
"Nope," Fred affirmed, popping his lips. "And don't bother trying to get rid of it. We live less than a block from the bank, I can just get another one."
Hermione heaved a defeated sigh and got up to perch on top of his thighs crossways, twining her arms around his neck. She shook her head in defeat. "You're horrifically stubborn, you know that?"
"Cauldron, kettle," Fred said, pointing at her and then at himself and she rolled her eyes, leaning down to kiss him again, this time much more thoroughly.
"Hermione!" A voice rang out from inside a moment later, interrupting them. It only took a second to recognise that it belonged to Angelina.
"On the balcony!" she called back, not bothering to shift out of Fred's lap.
A second later Angelina's head poked around the half-opened door, ponytail swinging like a pendulum behind her. "There you are – can I have a quick word?"
"Of course," Hermione said, straightening up as her interest was piqued.
"Alone," Angelina added, looking pointedly at Fred with a raised brow. He sighed and pressed a kiss to Hermione's temple, then got to his feet as she climbed off of him.
"Sure, I'll just… go be somewhere else that isn't my bedroom."
Once he departed, Hermione took the spot Fred had occupied and Angelina settled in the other chair.
"What's that?" She asked, gesturing to the envelope still in Hermione's hand.
"Backpay, apparently," Hermione said, shaking her head as she tucked it into her notebook on the table. Angelina shrugged and brushed past it.
"Okay, so do the two of you have any plans tomorrow night?"
"As in, Fred and I? I don't think so, just the party on Wednesday. Why?"
"What do you say we treat the two of them to a good, old-fashioned muggle double-date?"
oOoOoOo
"One of us has to change," Fred said adamantly, scowling at his brother. He'd just walked into the living room to find that they were wearing the exact same suit jacket in the exact same shade of dark green. "I'm fourteen minutes older, so I'm demanding that it be you."
"Precisely," George countered. He'd just finished tying his shoes and straightened up, looking unperturbed. "You're older, thus you had fourteen extra minutes to get dressed. I was out here first."
They stood in front of the fireplace, staring at one another like two desperados standing off in an old western.
"Oh, honestly," Angelina scoffed, striding in and rolling her eyes.
"Like children," Hermione agreed long-sufferingly, following her.
The boys turned and Fred suddenly didn't care one single lick what he was wearing. In fact, were his brother and Angie not present, he'd be rather content to not wear anything at all.
"Bloody –"
" – hell."
He saw Angelina in his periphery, clad in something a deep grey colour with a slit up the leg, but Hermione pulled his attention in her direction and his jaw all but hit the floor. Her dress was a pale blue and it looked as though it had been painted on, hugging her waist and her hips before cutting just below her knees. It had two miniscule straps holding it up but, other than that, her upper chest and shoulders were completely bare. He could even see the very top edge of her scar.
"Well?" She asked, spinning to reveal that part of the back was cut away as well, and then turning to face him again.
Fred wasn't a pious man by any stretch of the imagination, but he felt a sudden urge to thank any and all deities for this witch.
He stepped forward, running his thumb over her cheek and then along her jaw. Her hair was down and wild, and she was wearing a bit of makeup, eyes smoky and lips a slightly darker pink than usual.
"Positively breathtaking," he remarked with a soft groan, just loud enough for her to hear.
She smiled and thanked him before she took in what he was wearing and squinted her eyes, tipping her head to the side thoughtfully. "Maybe just…" she raised her hand, muttered something under her breath, and suddenly his suit jacket was dark blue instead of green, offsetting the lighter tone of her outfit.
"Did you just do that wandlessly?" He blurted and she grinned, nodding.
"Practice."
He felt a sudden flash of pride and tugged her against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head repeatedly when she squeaked in surprise.
"All right, you two," Angelina interjected, trying and failing to keep George's hands from wandering past her hips. "We need to get a move on, reservations are at seven."
"Shall we?" Fred asked, extending his arm to Hermione once they'd all donned heavy outerwear, complete with charmed scarves and gloves.
She reached out and hooked her hand around his elbow. "We shall."
oOoOoOo
"Muggles really have fine dining figured out," George said appreciatively as they left the restaurant, a posh new place overlooking the Thames. Angelina's father, a rather wealthy art curator, had managed to turn his and his wife's two-person reservation into a party of four upon the both of them falling ill the day prior and being unable to fulfill it themselves.
"Definitely," Fred agreed. "I was stuffed by the time they brought out the actual meals."
"That's because the two of you ate nearly a whole baguette during the salad course," Hermione laughed, leading the way to a path along the river. "And regardless, you didn't seem to have any issue finishing your dinners."
It was a brisk night, but the sky was relatively clear and the snow blanketing the ground caught the streetlights and lingering Christmas decorations, sparkling.
"So, where are we off to now?" George asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Well, since Angie so graciously arranged dinner," Hermione started, as Angelina took a sweeping bow and nearly lost her hat in the process, "I came up with our activity for the evening. Just a couple blocks this way."
She and Angelina had preemptively spelled their shoes not to hurt their feet, and their whole party was wrapped in various warming charms in addition to their outerwear. George and Angelina fell behind a little and Hermione looped her arm more securely through Fred's, leaning her head sideways against his shoulder as they strolled.
"Having a good time?" She asked quietly.
"Absolutely," he affirmed. "Pretty posh as far as first dates go, though. You'd better be careful or I'll get used to it."
"First – oh my gosh, it is, isn't it?" Hermione nearly tripped over herself upon realising that he was correct. Then she turned and swatted him firmly on the shoulder. "You prat! How did you manage to go a full year without taking me on a proper date?"
"To be fair," Fred defended, chuckling at her pitiful blow, "the wizarding world has been a militarised zone for pretty much the whole duration of our relationship."
"Still," she muttered before laughing at the absurdity of the conversation. It was odd, taking him into her world. Fred and George had had some exposure to muggle culture in her absence, at the hands of both Angelina and Lee, but the sheer normalcy of walking down the street without keeping a hand on her wand the whole time was staggering.
"So where are we going, anyway?"
"There," Hermione pointed to the massive structure plopped along the edge of the river, now fully in view as they rounded a bend. There were enormous multi-coloured spotlights aimed up at the building, casting shadows and adding to the grandeur. "It's called Somerset House."
"Bleeding hell," Fred breathed, eyes flickering across the edifice. "Must be one rich bloke that lives there."
Hermione grinned and shook her head. Glancing over her shoulder she saw George and Angelina had fallen even further behind and were now kissing rather passionately against a lamppost. Fred glanced back as well and, after a second, they both shrugged before continuing on. Angie knew where they were going, after all.
"The estate hasn't been used as a residence in a very long time. It was originally built in 1547 by the Duke of Somerset, Edward Seymour, but after he was executed via beheading, ownership fell to the crown."
Fred tugged the scarf away from his neck, expression a little uneasy. "What on earth did he do to deserve that?"
"Treason supposedly, but at that time 'treason' was really just code for holding any sort of opinion that contradicted the people in power. His wife was arrested as well, for conspiring with him." They came to a halt near the wrought-iron gate that blocked off the side of the building. "Once the royal family took possession of it, Queen Elizabeth I lived there for a time before it was renamed Denmark House following the Treaty of London's signing. It managed to survive the fires in 1666 but was ultimately demolished and rebuilt in the late eighteenth century – an absolute pity, really. The General Registrar's Office was established there once the remodel was complete, though it isn't there anymore, and – and I'm being really, tragically boring, aren't I?"
She trailed off haplessly and looked over at Fred to find him smiling affectionately at her in spite of the impromptu lecture.
"Not in the slightest. Although, you could have read the menu at the restaurant earlier and it would have held my attention."
Hermione relaxed a bit and started to lead him around the edge of the building toward the courtyard where hundreds of people were laughing and milling about. "Well, long story short, it's now mostly an art museum, though there are talks of partitioning other parts of it off for public use."
"What are all these people doing here, then?"
"Well, there's another public event that they started doing in the winter a couple years ago." Hermione stepped through a gap along the railing and looked at Fred with an anticipatory smile. "Tell me, have you ever heard of ice-skating?"
oOoOoOo
As it turned out, Fred and George hadn't heard of ice-skating, but they approached it the same way that they approached all things: with an unwavering sense of humor.
Angelina, on the other hand, had apparently ice-skated in her youth, skillfully twirling around them upon entering the rink while George kept his legs bowed stiffly, barely moving forward, and Fred clung to the railing like a cat dangling over open water.
Once they'd been lapped a few times by children that were barely school-age, they began to get the hang of it. Hermione glided along, not terrible herself, though already sporting a few bruises on her hips and bum.
She and Fred laughed uproariously when Angelina zipped past suddenly and grabbed George's arm, towing him forward and away from them with a terrified, not at all manly, shriek.
They disappeared and Hermione reached a hand out, which Fred eyed incredulously.
"Don't worry," she assured him, "You're safe. I'm barely staying upright myself."
He took it and they tottered forward, leaning on one another and landing on their asses more than once.
They'd circled the rink a couple more times before taking a break to sit and people-watch, Hermione citing sore feet. There were hundreds of people milling about, but Hermione caught sight of an elderly couple a way down along the railing, clutching cups of cocoa and cheering enthusiastically each time their presumable grandchildren passed them.
She watched as the man took his glove off and raised a trembling hand to straighten his wife's hat and pull it down to better cover her ears. She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the mouth.
"I wonder how long they've been together," Fred mused, having followed her gaze and watching as well.
"Seems like forever," Hermione commented, watching as they turned back to the ice.
"Forever…" Fred said, trailing off thoughtfully. She looked sideways at him curiously, the cogs whirling in his head before he came to whatever conclusion he'd been pursuing and nodded. "Yeah, I think we could probably manage that."
She grinned and leaned forward to kiss him. His lips were warm and soft, serving in stark contrast to the crisp winter air surrounding them. She pulled back and said softly, "Forever sounds like a good place to start."
It was like the people around them faded to white noise and Hermione basked in that moment, the twinkling lights and the laughter and the smell of hot cocoa at the nearby stand. It was peaceful, stolen and perfect.
Or, it was until Angelina and George sidled up near them, the latter more or less crashing.
"Oi, lovebirds!" George interrupted, gripping the rail, "What do you say we get out of here? My ass hurts and I could use a drink."
They ended up at the flat a short time later, sitting in front of the fire and passing a bottle of firewhiskey among them. Hermione and Angelina had removed their heels and the boys their jackets.
They were chatting idly about the upcoming New Year's party when Angelina was overcome by a sneezing fit, her allergy remedy apparently having worn off.
"I'm so sorry, Angie," Hermione said apologetically as the other witch summoned a bottle from her bag. "I'll go buy a new shampoo tomorrow. Is it only lavender that you're allergic to?"
She jumped in surprise, nearly spilling her drink when all three of them immediately and forcefully said, "No!"
"Okay, fine," Hermione said, eyes wide as she raised her hands in baffled surrender. "I'll keep the lavender."
oOoOoOo
A/N: Technically seasonal ice skating didn't begin at Somerset House until 1999, but we're going to pretend that's not the case.
Enjoy the fluff while you can!