Night Shift
"Oi, Freddie!" George shouts, catching his brother's attention from across the shop. "I'm heading out. Ang and I are going out to dinner for our anniversary."
Fred Weasley nods in acknowledgment to his brother, despite fighting off a yawn in the process.
"You look like hell," George continues as he approaches his brother more closely. "Are you sleeping at all?"
Fred leans to the side, resting his shoulder and head against the doorframe which leads to his and George's office and tries to resist the desire to close his eyes– even just for a moment.
"'M fine, Georgie. Just working a lot," Fred replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "Between having a three year-old and 'Mione working fewer hours at Mungo's, I've just been spending a little extra time in the workshop– and then when I'm home, I'm foregoing sleep to be with my wife and daughter. You've got three kids, you know how it goes."
George's eyebrow creases in thought.
"I don't burn the candle at both ends. I don't work fourteen-hour days at the shop like you do. We have the staff so that we don't have to be here all of the time. Leave Lee in charge and go get some sleep."
Fred opens his mouth to argue with his twin, but is quickly silenced by the next statement to come from George.
"If you fight me on this, I'll call Hermione– and you know that she'll come down here and drag you home by your hair," George states, mirroring his brother's pose with his arms crossed. "Go home, Freddie."
Fred wants to ignore his brother– but he also wants to go get in bed, so in the end, he simply agrees with George.
After explaining to Lee that Fred would be heading home so as not to drop dead from exhaustion– and receiving an enthusiastic, resounding agreement from the aforementioned friend and employee– the redheaded man apparates directly into the sitting room of the flat which he shares with his wife and daughter.
"Fred?" the voice of Fred Weasley's own personal angel, Hermione Granger-Weasley, calls from somewhere down the hall, leaving only a moment between the sound of her voice and the appearance of her person as she, presumably, comes to investigate the sudden appearance of her husband.
"George sent me home," Fred laughs lightly, greedily accepting the hug which his wife bestows upon him in greeting and kissing the top of her head. "According to him, I need a nap."
Hermione's expression softens as she raises a hand to cup Fred's cheek, her eyes clearly searching Fred's face for signs of illness or exhaustion.
"Well, go on then," Hermione smiles, standing up on her toes and pressing a chaste kiss to Fred's lips.
Fred tightens his arms around his wife's waist, holding her close when she tries to step back.
"Join me?" Fred asks, knowing that he'll fall asleep far easier and far faster with Hermione in his arms. "Where's Rose?"
Hermione smiles, nuzzling her head into Fred's chest.
"A nap with you sounds wonderful," Hermione breathes. "And Rosie is with your mum. She offered to take her for the night because she also has George's three. I was going to surprise you with dinner, but I wasn't expecting you home so soon."
Fred buries his nose into Hermione's curls, smothering his grin at how cute his wife is.
"Dinner can wait," Fred declares, unwrapping his arms from around Hermione– but only for a moment. In the next, he scoops her up with an arm behind her knees and another under her back, carrying her bridal-style through their flat in the direction of their bedroom. "Let's go to bed, wife."
Hermione shrieks in surprise at Fred's manhandling, though quickly dissolves into a fit of giggles as he carries her through their flat.
Fred deposits Hermione down on their bed, brushing a parting kiss to her forehead as he steps back, stripping himself out of his shirt and trousers, leaving himself in only his shorts. By the time he looks up, his wife has similarly disrobed and has crawled under the quilt on their bed, waiting for him to join her– which he does. Immediately.
Under the quilt, Fred tangles his bare legs with Hermione's and wraps his arms around her, dragging her toward himself and tucking her safely up against his chest. If asked, Fred might say that his favorite place in the world is to be tucked up under the quilt, not a thing between himself and his wife. The brush of her skin against his just feels so nice.
"I love you," Fred whispers into Hermione's hair, pressing a 'goodnight' kiss to the crown of her head as he closes his eyes.
Hermione snuggles closer, returning Fred's kiss by leaving one of her own on his chest.
"I love you."
Fred doesn't stay asleep for long– maybe an hour, if he had to guess– but it's enough. True to his guess, a nap with his wife was exactly what he needed to feel refreshed.
Fred blinks his eyes open, quickly realizing that at some point in the last hour, Hermione has rolled over, now with her back and bum pressed snugly against Fred's front. Gravity seems to have pulled her mass of curls toward her right side, toward the bed, baring her left shoulder to Fred's viewing pleasure.
Fred knows that his wife is sleeping and that he shouldn't disturb her, but he's a red-blooded man with only so much self-control– and his wife's bum is pressed tightly against the single most sensitive part of his anatomy. So, on that note, he dips his head down, nuzzling his nose against her skin before peppering her shoulder and neck with soft, lingering kisses.
Fred dances the tips of his fingers over Hermione's waist, hoping to stir his wife gently, so as not to startle her.
Hermione inhales deeply– the first sign that she is beginning to wake.
"Wake up, love," Fred mumbles against her skin, brushing his hand down along her exposed thigh.
Hermione finally seems to awaken, grumbling quietly to herself before she turns her head to see just what her husband is doing.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," Hermione chides playfully, despite reaching back behind herself to thread her fingers through Fred's shaggy, copper hair, holding his head in place where he has started to move his kisses from her shoulder to the side of her neck and to that spot behind her ear that she loves.
"Can't," Fred chuckles, rolling his hips against Hermione's backside.
Hermione laughs lightly, shaking her head– though she decidedly does not, in any way, stop her husband's advances. Rather, she encourages them by meeting him half-way and by breathing the quietest, most wonderful little hums that Fred has ever heard.
"You're meant to be regaining your energy, not exerting it, Freddie."
Fred smirks against Hermione's neck, the scent of her shampoo beginning to make his head a bit fuzzy.
"Just 'working the night shift', love."
Fred can't see it, but he would bet an obscene amount of galleons that his wife is rolling her eyes at him right now. Hermione rolls back onto her other side, now facing Fred with an incredulous smile stretching her lips.
"You're ridiculous," Hermione laughs, shaking her head once more in disbelief– though still leaning up to kiss her 'ridiculous' husband anyway.
"Ridiculously in love with you," Fred amends, his words a ghost over Hermione's lips. "Who needs sleep, anyway?"
"I think I should start working more hours at the hospital again," Hermione whispers, her voice quiet and uncertain as she lays with her head on her husband's chest.
Fred's grip on Hermione's right thigh– which is draped very distractingly across his pelvis– tightens, his confusion evident in his body language.
"Why would you do that?" Fred wonders, though he has a fair idea of where his wife's thought process might be going in this case.
"Freddie, you're working sixty-plus hour weeks. Rosie is old enough to spend more time with your mum now, so I can go back to work and you can stop killing yourself."
Fred immediately shakes his head in disagreement.
"No, 'Mione. Absolutely not. We talked about this. Rosie needs her mum," Fred states, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "I'll cut back at the shop. I own the place– I can do that. I've just been working on extra projects. I'll slow down, I promise."
Hermione sits up, swinging her leg which is already on Fred's pelvis over to the bed beside him, effectively straddling him– not dissimilar to how she had been positioned approximately fifteen minutes ago, though unfortunately, under very different circumstances this time.
"Fred, Rosie needs her mum, but she needs her dad, too," Hermione insists, reaching to her side to tangle the fingers of her right hand with the ones on Fred's left, brushing her thumb over where his wedding ring sits. "And so do I."
Fred can so clearly see the emotion swirling behind his wife's brown eyes, forcing him to realize that this is important to her– and if it's important to Hermione, then it's important to him, too.
"I'll cut back. I promise," Fred repeats, reaching his free hand up to brush a curl back from where it has fallen in front of Hermione's left eye. "I'm sorry that I've been working so much. I just want to give you and Rosie a good life."
Hermione leans down, pressing a soft, but meaningful kiss to her husband's lips.
"We already have a good life, Fred. Rosie and I love you so much. We want to enjoy our lives with you. Don't spend so much time trying to make a living that you forget to make a life."
Hermione tips her head to the side, dotting gentle kisses across Fred's cheek and down his neck, while the aforementioned wizard attempts to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head at the tingly sensation that his witch is causing to flood through his veins at the minute.
"I know that you want to give Rose and I everything– but galleons aren't everything," Hermione continues, her soft, pink lips still dancing rather delightfully across Fred's freckled skin. "Everything is being home on weekends and evenings. Everything is reading bedtime stories to your daughter without falling asleep in her bed before she does. Everything is being home in the mornings to shower with me like we used to when we first got married. Everything is getting a full night's sleep so that you can wake up and do all of those things all over again without burning out."
Fred squeezes Hermione's hand in an attempt to indicate to her that he hears her– that he is listening.
"And as much as I have enjoyed this impromptu evening with my husband, I'd prefer you not be sent home from work by your brother because you're too tired to stand," Hermione sits back up, dropping one final kiss to the corner of Fred's lips. "I married you so that I could spend the rest of my life with you– my exceptionally long, magical life. I can't do that if you work yourself into an early grave."
Fred lifts his right hand and tangles it into the curls at the back of Hermione's head, pulling her into a strange, one-armed, slightly uncomfortable hug. It seems to do the trick, though, as Hermione relaxes against his chest.
"I love you so much, Fred. I'm not trying to reprimand you or seem like I'm not grateful that you take such good care of us, because I am grateful– but I would sacrifice a lot if it meant that you were taking better care of yourself, too."
Fred tucks his thumb under Hermione's chin, tilting her face up to meet her gaze seriously.
"I'll start tonight, then," Fred assures his wife. "I believe that a dinner was promised. We'll start there– and then I will spend a truly absurd amount of time loving on my wife until I have fully convinced her of my dedication to this new endeavor. How does that sound?"
Hermione sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to hide a smile as she nods her head excitedly.
"That sounds perfect, Freddie."
Hi, friends! Happy Friday! (:
First and foremost, this fic was inspired by the song "Night Shift" by Jon Pardi. It's sort of loosely inspired and took a turn for the serious at the end there, but y'know. I don't plan things. The characters just tell me what to do and I write it, lol.
I really love how this little one-shot came out. I love the song that inspired it, first of all, and then I thought that the message in it was important too.
In my mind, it's not a hard leap to make to think that Fred (or any of the Weasleys, really) might hyper-fixate on providing for their families after growing up without galleons to spare. Of course Fred would want to make sure that his daughter grew up with everything she needed and anything that she wanted. However, Hermione in this fic gives him some good advice, if I do say so myself.
People are what matter. Your relationships, your friends, your family and loved ones- they matter. They matter more than any money in the world. Your relationship with yourself matters more than any money in the world. Taking care of yourself is not optional. Yes, being able to support yourself financially is important, but money isn't everything.
If nothing else, take this fic as a sign to stop chasing a paycheck and go touch some grass and hug someone you love.
Okay, I'll get off of my soapbox now. Feel free to ignore everything I've just said, but I would highly encourage you not to.
In any case, thank you, as always, for spending a bit of your time here with me this week. It truly means the world to me and I appreciate you all so much for your continued support.
If you feel so inclined, please leave a review. I love reading your thoughts, opinions, favorite parts, all of the things on my work. (:
See you again soon.