19 September 1995. The Great Hall.
Hermione was up early, as always, and had already finished her breakfast by the time he and George had sunk into their own seats in the Great Hall.
If he chose to sit across from her, tugging George by the elbow, no one but George noticed.
"Mornin', Hermione."
George grumbled unintelligibly beside him. Whatever he said wasn't heard over the ruffling sounds of the morning post arriving.
"Good morning, Fred. Late night, George?"
"Early morning," George replied. "Woke up 'round three and couldn't fall back asleep. Kenneth snores."
Hermione's brow furrowed, and she paused briefly as she collected her post. "Why not use a silencing spell or muffling charm? Or earplugs?"
George stared.
"…Georgie?" Fred questioned.
"Fuck you." Hermione blinked, and George continued, "I spend hours in wakeful torture, plagued by Kenneth and his louder-than-thunder snores, and you solve the problem in seconds. Fuck you." He stood up. "I'm going back to sleep."
Hermione frowned. "What about your classes?"
Ignoring her, George left.
"He'll be awake again by charms. What's with all the packages?"
"Oh. Um… It's my birthday. Sixteen."
Suddenly feeling terrible for not knowing, Fred floundered, checking his (empty) pockets for something to give her. Sixteen was a big birthday in the muggle world, too. "Shit. Sorry, I didn't know. Happy Birthday." The pockets, as well as his hands, remained empty.
Hermione waved him off, moving away from a letter to the package it arrived with. "No, I wouldn't have expected you to know it, it's alright."
"Still, I feel like a right prat, not knowing my friend's birthday."
"It's okay, Fr —" Hermione suddenly let out a gasp.
"What is it?"
"Some records — Oasis' Definitely Maybe — this is the one from last year, I've been looking for it. I have the CD at home, but those don't work at Hogwarts. And the letter said they bought some others they thought I'd like." she said, already tearing open the plastic wrap around of the Oasis album to inspect its yellow-and-blue sleeve. It opened up to reveal a black-and-white mosaic of the band as well as columns of lyrics, which was nifty. Fred'd never seen lyrics printed on any of the sleeves of records put out by wizarding bands.
"Any good?" He asked.
"Don't know," Hermione answered cheekily, "haven't listened to it yet." She smiled. "Kidding. They're one of my favourite muggle bands. Ugh, and I didn't bring my record player."
"Hey, come use mine," Fred said, without really thinking about it. It was worth whatever the consequences were after the way Hermione's eyes widened. He felt like he was the only person in the whole of the Great Hall. She was so pretty.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. Come on up and give 'em a listen after your classes. Consider it a birthday present, since I haven't anything else."
A huge grin split over her face. "Fred! You're the best! …What about your dorm mates?"
Fred shrugged. "Fuck 'em."
Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Or, y'know,"said Fred with faux reluctance, "remind them that muffling charms exist."
Hermione's unimpressed expression morphed into a smile and a laugh as she reached for the pile of vinyls to appraise them.
Fred spent the rest of his breakfast trying to hear that laughter over and over again.
19 September 1995. After Classes.
Hermione descended the stairs, now out of uniform, and Fred grinned, leading her to the disused classroom he'd set up in. He'd even transfigured a couch from an old desk.
"Thanks. For doing all this, I mean. It's really nice of you to go out of your way for me, I mean, no one else has done anything for today."
"What, Harry and Ron didn't plan a party for you?" Fred joked, but it fell flat when he saw Hermione's face.
"Err... no," she said. "I don't think they remembered. But this is far more enjoyable to me than a big party, anyway. So... Thanks."
Fred thought that was kinda fucked, especially remembering the book Hermione had gotten Ron for his birthday in March. (Some sort of chess book that Ron had complained about at first, but eventually read.)
"It's mostly because you have good taste in music," he proclaimed, nodding in faux-seriousness. "But if this record is shite…"
Hermione's face lit up at his teasing, and she assured him, "no, it's really good, I swear."
Fred grinned, gesturing dramatically to a door. As Hermione looked around, he took the record she wanted to listen to and went about setting it on the platter and adjusting the pitch.
When he turned around, though, she had removed her sweater and was working on tying up her hair. Mostly, though, Fred noticed the shirt she was wearing — a black shirt with tour dates across the back of the shoulders which was faded much too much for the dates given. She obviously wore it just as much as he wore his Deadly Spellz shirt.
Fred grinned. "You're so fucking cool," he said.
"Thanks," said Hermione, adjusting the 'Nevermind' shirt on her shoulders. "Y'know, thats my goal in life. To be someone Fred Weasley thinks is fucking cool."
If Fred was surprised she swore, he didn't show it, only grinning wider. "That's everyone's goal; I'm like the second coming of bloody Merlin. You've achieved it, though."
Hermione snorted at Fred's ridiculous nature and demanded he press play.
He looked over to Hermione, watching as she moved her head to the rhythm and mouthed along to the lyrics. Her eyes closed, and she tilted her head back with the guitar riffing through a transition.
She really was so pretty.
Hermione looked over at him, and they both grinned.
Maybe you're the same as me /We see things they'll never see /
You and I are gonna live forever /
About an hour later, as Fred removed the side D from the platter, Hermione asked, "Am I still fucking cool?"
Fred laughed, "yeah. Yeah, you're still fucking cool."
"Thanks, Fred. Best birthday yet."
"Same time next year?" He asked, looking over at Hermione as he secured his record player.
Hermione's head tilted and her eyebrows furrowed as she frowned. "You'll be graduated by then," she said.
Fred thought for a moment. "Your nineteenth, then?"
Hermione grinned, nodding.
(Fred thought about asking if it'd be a date.)