Notes:
This story was written for Day Eleven of the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Fall Fluff Fest 2024.
The prompt was Knit Scarf.
Cross-posted from AO3.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
There was magic in the simplicity of a moment, Hermione thought as Fredrick Weasley took his cosy tartan scarf off and wrapped it snugly around her own neck, encasing her with his scent: gunpowder, cloves, and citrus. Discreetly she inhaled the delicious smell while appreciating his beautiful hazel eyes that were warm and kind as well as the mesmerising smile that made her heart flutter.
"There's no need for you to be cold love," he told her quietly, the term of endearment came so easily to him and her heart soared for this man who she found herself growing more attracted to each day.
"Thank you, Freddie," she breathed, her tongue flicking out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Hermione wasn't blind and she noticed the way his eyes were drawn to this action, saw how his irises dilated.
"No problem love, if you're going to be reading while we practice, you might as well be warm," he spoke, his voice gruffer than it had been moments before, he gave her a wide smile and turned away, ready to head down to the Quidditch pitch to practice with the rest of the Gryffindor team.
Hermione bit her lip, appreciating the fit of his Quidditch kit, which allowed her to see his magnificent physique, from his broad shoulders to his broom thighs and, muscled arse, "Fred," she called to him before he could get too far.
"What is it love," he asked, turning back to her with a questioning look. Hermione mustered all of her Gryffindor courage as she stood and moved towards him, leaving her copy of Hogwarts A History behind on the wooden bench where she had been sitting in the Gryffindor Quidditch stand.
With a boldness that she wasn't usually known to exhibit, Hermione reached up and tangled her hands into the red hair at the nape of his neck, rising onto her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his own. Fred froze for a moment at the contact and Hermione worried for a second that she had misread the signs, and that he wasn't mutually attracted to her the way that she hoped he was. Perhaps Fred simply thought of her as a friend and that's why he was always so kind to her, though he so often went above and beyond her other friends and there had been many moments like when he'd watched her lick her lips when she could have sworn, she'd seen desire for her in his eyes.
Hermione was drawn from her worried thoughts by Fred, kissing her back, one hand clutching her right hip while the other tangled into her wild curls, drawing her closer to him as he deepened the kiss hungrily. His mouth swallowed a moan that she unwittingly released, their tongues melding together, she realised he tasted like gingerbread and her legs were beginning to feel wobbly like jelly. Hermione tried to convey every ounce of emotion, she felt for the seventh year Gryffindor who she'd grown closer too since the formation of Dumbledore's Army, kissing him with a passion she'd never used with Victor, Cormac, or her muggle neighbour Jimmy.
Loud hoots and wolf-whistles met their ears, and they pulled apart slowly, with a lingering kiss, Fred tucking a loose curl behind her ear as he smiled at her tenderly, his hazel eyes heated.
"I've wanted to do that for a while," he confessed, with a boyish grin.
"Why didn't you then," she asked him curiously.
"I was worried you wouldn't be receptive and that it would ruin our friendship, you're important to me Hermione," he told her quietly, his eyes fixed on hers seriously.
"I'm very receptive," she confessed, more than aware of how heated her own face was.
"I can see that," he grinned with a chuckle, his eyes dark with desire.
"I care for you too Fred and whatever this is between us will never ruin our friendship," she promised him.
"How about a date then love, we could meet in the Room of Requirement after dinner tonight," he asked her, she grinned and nodded.
"Only if we can break Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six again, I quite enjoy been closer than six inches to you," she grinned cheekily and was bold enough to send a wink in his direction.
"So do I love," he said, leaning in for another kiss which she melted into.
"Oi Weasley, you can kiss your girlfriend later, we are meant to be practicing," the amplified voice of Angelina Johnson called, causing the pair of them to part reluctantly.
"Sorry love, got to go," he said as he gently wrapped his knitted tartan scarf more securely around her neck before, descending the stand to re-join his team on the Quidditch pitch. The scarf was warm and cosy, his scent cocooning her comfortingly as Hermione returned to her spot on the bench, now too distracted to continue the reading she'd intended to do that afternoon. Instead Hermione watched Fred flying around the pitch, the taste of spiced gingerbread still lingering on her lips as she imagined kissing him again.
The End
Notes:
Once again, sorry for the delay with posting for this prompt. By the end of the weekend I promise to have a piece written for all of the revealed prompts. I hope you enjoyed reading this one shot. 😀
The image accompanying this story was created using the Copilot App.