Record Sleeves (You're Fucked.)

Early February 1994. Fifth Floor Corridor.

Fred was wandering the halls, not really doing anything. He had a few tricks in his bag if the opportunity arose, but those weren't a priority.

It was just one of those days.

But then he saw George and Angelina down the hall, and Ange would be nice enough to talk to him if she saw him, but he'd inevitably get looped into whatever they were doing as a third wheel. Wanting to avoid that, he ducked through a door so they could pass and Fred could resume wasting his time. He peeked out through the door a little, catching George grinning at him.

Fred was such a good brother.

He leaned back against the wall, waiting a moment to make sure Angelina didn't see him as he left.

"Hi, Fred."

Fred screamed, latching his hands over his mouth to stop the sound. He identified the source as being Hermione Granger, who was sitting cross-legged on an obviously transfigured chaise with some parchments and books, looking wide-eyed at him.

"Sweet fucking Merlin, Hermione. You scared me." Fred panted, hands on his knees.

"Sorry!" Hermione squeaked. "I thought you knew I was here."

Fred gesticulated wildly, utterly flabbergasted by her. "Why on Earth would I know you were in a disused storage room on the fifth floor?!"

Matching his energy, Hermione defended herself. "I'm always here! If I'm not at my desk in the library, I'm here."

"How would I know that?"

"Everyone knows that! I have office hours posted!"

"Office hours?" Fred scoffed.

Hermione nodded. "On the door."

Sure enough, Fred opened the door to find a sign posted on the obverse with hours listing times during which tutoring was available.

"Huh." Fred turned back to Hermione. "I did not know you offered tutoring from an old storage room." He looked about, cataloguing how used the space looked.

"I used to stay in the library, but, well… Viktor likes to sit with me, and his fanclub is rather... They've gotten worse since the ball. So I started offering people to meet here for the quiet."

"Nice setup you've got here. Who're you tutoring today?"

"Martin Beccles should be here soon to go over charms," Hermione said. "I'm just editing my notes from last year for him."

"Mind if I sit around until he gets here? I've been bored all day." Hermione gestured, and Fred made himself comfortable.

"And my company will fix that? What happened to George?"

"Alas, he's been ensnared by Angelina. I've been left to die alone."

"Poor boy. I'll say something nice at the service." Hermione replied with a sardonic roll of her eyes.

Beccles never did show, which was great for Fred.

He and Hermione talked, and he made her laugh as many times as he could.

Eventually Hermione opened a drawer in an old desk and pulled out some butterbeers. (She apparently also tutored Trisha Buttermere, who was obsessed with the stuff, and gave Hermione some for her help.)

And then Fred had a brilliant idea. "Hey wait. Hold on, I'll be right back."

Hermione paused from opening the bottles. "Where are you going?"

"You'll see!"

"Fred? Fred!"

Fred heard her huff from down the hall.

It was awkward to carry, but he'd carried his record player down, balancing it on top of a crate of records.

"Oi, Hermione! Get the door!"

"What — oh. Woah, fuck. Okay." Hermione grabbed the player from Fred's precarious tower, setting it down. "You brought a record player." She stated, face blank.

"And music! I've made sure I grabbed The Stoned Warlocks, too." Fred grinned. Hermione blinked. "Or," cringed Fred, "is this one of those things that I thought was a good idea but it turns out it really wasn't? Did I fuck it up?"

Hermione blinked again.

"No. No, you didn't fuck up. I just — unexpected, is all." Fred tried not to make it obvious how much he relaxed at her statement. "I didn't know you had a record player of your own."

"Used to be Charlie's." Fred shrugged, moving Hermione by her shoulders so she stood in front of the records. "Your pick first."

After browsing for a moment, she turned to him, hair fanning out around her.

"Budge up!" She elbowed him out of the way, removing the record from its green sleeve. "You like the Deadly Spellz, right? That's what you said?"

"Yeah…?"

"Criss Cross is a great album. 'The Wireless is a Muggle Invention' is my favourite song on it."

After Criss Cross had played through, Fred picked a Stoned Warlocks album to play, and they took turns for a few hours, playing records, drinking butterbeer, and doing absolutely nothing.

I'm a waste like you /
With nothing else to do /
May I waste your time too? /