Set in my Truth Seekers universe, but can stand alone.

Hermione is fifteen so is technically underage, so if you have a problem with that, this may not be for you.

Hermione was not nervous.

She might have been a tad apprehensive (and, no, that was not the same thing), but she was not nervous.

It was April 1st, which was normally enough to make anyone nervous (or apprehensive) with the Weasley twins around, but that didn't concern her.

The twins turned seventeen today, and there had not yet been any hint of a prank, which had put the whole school on edge.

Everyone moved in packs, checking and double-checking any doors they walked through, testing all food and drink they came across.

Hermione knew better. Fred had already confided in her that they were going to skip the birthday prank this year, because both had girlfriends, and neither wanted to spend their 17th birthday in detention.

Next week, on the other hand, all bets would be off.

So, no, Hermione was not thinking about pranks.

She had given them their birthday presents that morning - a book on Muggle and magical accountancy for George (who favoured arithmancy) and a book of business spells and wards for Fred (who favoured Ancient Runes). They had both teased her for predictability, but thanked sincerely, saying that the books would come in handy for the shop.

She had also slipped a note into Fred's pocket, asking him to meet her in the Room of Requirement after dinner that evening, for his 'real' birthday present.

She had left her school robes in her dorm, and was wearing a soft blue blouse with a darker blue skirt, and she perched on the edge of the sofa the room had given her, almost vibrating with nerves.

Not nerves.

Apprehension.

She had been thinking about this for some time, had gone over it again and again in her head until she was sure, but now she was here, she wasn't sure how to go about it.

Should they talk about it first?

Should she just start undressing?

For that matter, had he already guessed what his 'real' birthday present was?

Would he take the lead when he arrived?

She almost hoped he would; she was certain he had more experience than she did, maybe he would know what he was doing.

After what seemed like an age, the door opened, and Fred slipped inside. He too had foregone his school robes, but was still wearing his uniform (albeit without the tie, since it was a Saturday).

"Sorry," he said in a hushed voice. "Had to …" he trailed off, taking in her appearance. "Well, good evening, Miss Granger. Did you dress up for me?"

Hermione blushed, rising to her feet. "Maybe."

He always had a way of making her feel more beautiful than she was, and his gaze swept slowly over her as he approached her. "You know, you gave me a perfectly good birthday present this morning."

"I know," Hermione said, "but it felt a bit impersonal."

"It was brilliant," Fred insisted, stopping just in front of her to kiss her lips lightly. "Brilliant."

Hermione smiled, resting her hands on his chest, near his buttons. "Girlfriend's prerogative is extra presents though, right?"

Fred gave her a very serious look. "Mya, you know I don't expect anything from you, don't you?"

Oh, he had guessed alright.

"Of course I know that," Hermione said. "I'm not here because I think I have to be. I'm here because I want to be."

He smiled, and that smile always got her into trouble because it was the smile he always gave her just before she found herself being thoroughly kissed in a broom cupboard or alcove. It was automatic now - he smiled, and her legs turned to jelly.

"Well, that's alright then." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, and she slid her hands back over his shoulders to link them behind his head.

All too soon, he pulled away. "Just so I know," he said seriously, "any hard limits I should know about?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "My underwear stays on."

Fred nodded, as though he had expected her to say that. "Can I touch you?"

Hermione blushed again, but nodded as well. "So long as they stay on."

Fred grinned at her, lowering his head to nibble at her neck. "I can work with that. Anything else?"

Hermione tilted her head to give him better access, considering the question. No. No, that's all."

Fred groaned against her skin, walking her backwards. "You're going to be the death of me."

She might have said something, but then they had reached the wall and he was pressed up against her. His mouth descended on hers once more, devouring her as his hands roamed over her body, never pausing too long, only just brushing the sides of her covered breasts enough to make her whimper.

This was somewhat familiar, but now she allowed herself to sink fully into the moment, not needing to worry about getting to class or getting caught.

He was growing hard against her hip, not for the first time, but this was the first time she allowed herself to notice, to think about what that meant, to feel the shot of heat low in her belly at the knowledge that she was doing that to him.

Her fingers were nimbly undoing the buttons on his shirt, or at least they were until she could no longer access them because they were pressed so tightly together.

He chuckled into her mouth, stepping away from her just long enough to pull his shirt off, inexplicably turning a bit pink when she stared at him.

"Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Hermione asked.

"Freckles," Fred said, with a subconscious shrug. "I know they're a bit weird."

He certainly was freckled - all over - but that wasn't what had caught Hermione's attention. She had seen Fred shirtless before - during the summer heat, all the Weasley boys (bar Percy, of course) had lost their shirts at some point - but Hermione had made a conscious point not to really look at any of them.

(Because, okay, it was Fred she had fallen for, but she couldn't deny his brothers were good-looking, even if she had no personal designs on them).

She had known that he was strong - had to be, as a Beater - but for some reason she hadn't expected him to be so toned.

"I like them," she said, her voice coming out lower than she'd expected. Her fingers traced a line of them across the top of his chest, feeling hard muscle beneath. "If it helps, I've got a weird birthmark."

Fred's eyes lit up at that. "Oh do you now? And just where have you been hiding that?"

Hermione might have blushed again, but his obvious insecurity had made her feel a bit more confident, reassured her that they were both experiencing something similar. "Well, you'll have to try and find it, won't you?"

He let out a groan, pulling her to him once more. "Tease."

"You love it," Hermione murmured, dipping her head to kiss his neck, her tongue flicking out to taste his skin.

There was another moan that sounded like her name, and then he was tugging at her blouse, undoing the buttons faster than she would have thought possible. Before she knew it, his hands were on bare skin, his eyes falling on the only bra she owned that wasn't unattractively practical.

It certainly wasn't anything compared to some things she'd seen in department stores, but maybe the magical world didn't have lingerie like that, or maybe it was just her, because Fred was looking at her like she was the most delectable thing he'd ever seen.

"So beautiful," he whispered, pressing a slow and languid kiss to her lips. "Can I touch you?"

Hermione nodded. "Please."

His fingers brushed across the top of her breasts, just above the edge of her bra, causing a soft gasp, unprepared as she was for just how sensitive she was - and he wasn't even touching anything yet.

His hand withdrew, but before she could protest, he was taking her hand, leading her away from the wall and back to the sofa.

It had remained a sofa, thankfully, and not transformed into a bed, but it seemed much bigger than it had been.

There was certainly more room when Fred sat down and pulled her on top of him so she was straddling his lap.

He was still hard against her, but now it was directly against her centre, and she let out a moan, rocking down against him instinctively.

"Fuck, Mya," he muttered, gripping her hips. "Keep that up, I'm going to come in my pants."

"Well, we don't want that," Hermione murmured, nibbling at his neck.

Fred's hands contracted momentarily on her hips, and then he was trailing kisses down her throat and across the top of her breasts, nipping at where skin met silk.

"Clarifying question," he said, a little breathlessly. "Does this count as underwear?"

The answer had been yes, it did, but now with his bare chest so close, and his hands on her, she found herself reassessing.

"No."

Fred made an interesting noise against her, and she felt his hands on her back, pulling her closer. "I can take it off?"

And, oh, she loved him for double-checking.

"You can."

The clasp came undone far quicker than she expected, and his kisses began to dare lower.

"Have you done this before?" Hermione heard herself ask. She wanted to kick herself, but thankfully Fred didn't seem too bothered by her question, smirking against her skin.

"Why? Do you want a list of references?"

Hermione blushed. "No, I'm just curious. Want to know what I'm up against."

Fred lifted his head, his eyes searching hers. "Well, I'm in love with you. So you're already winning. There's been a few … broom cupboard adventures," he admitted, before she could say anything. "Before you, obviously. And never anything more than you're willing to do tonight. Not even close."

Hermione held his gaze. "I would have thought you weren't lacking offers."

Fred chuckled. "Honestly? No. But I'm pureblood, Mya."

Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sex is a magic all of its own," Fred said softly. "When you have sex, your magic forms a bond. Not a permanent one, unless you're soul-mates, but that's really rare. It …" he pulled a face, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it. "It's like … Family magic doesn't understand the Contraceptive Charm. All it knows is that there might be a baby, and that baby will need a combination of magic from both parents. So it does that every time. I mean, if there's no baby, the bond disappears, but there's still a … a footprint, so to speak. The older and stronger the family magic, the more defined the footprint."

Hermione tilted her head curiously, momentarily distracted from the body beneath her. "So someone could wave their wand and know who you've had sex with?"

"Not quite," Fred answered. "But your magic would remember them. Some purebloods don't care if the partner's not pureblood, because they wouldn't leave as strong an imprint, but I do."

"That makes sense," Hermione said quietly. "So it doesn't bother you that I'm not ready for …"

"Merlin, no," Fred interrupted hastily. "If I'm honest, even if you were, I'm not."

Hermione relaxed at that, a tension she hadn't realised was there lifting from her shoulders.

"There we are," Fred murmured, lowering his head to continue trailing kisses across her chest. "Now let me make you feel good."

"It's your birth …" Hermione sucked in a breath.

Gentle fingers had brushed against one of her nipples, drawing it to a peak, and then hot lips closed around it, suckling in a way that made her cry out, rocking down against him once more.

He groaned, the vibrations travelling through her skin, releasing her to kiss the reddening skin.

"You were saying?"

"It's your birthday," Hermione said, fingers lacing through his hair to hold him against her.

He grinned up at her. "I know. And this is the best present ever."

"I just feel like I'm getting more out of this than you are."

Fred chuckled, his other hand cupping the breast he wasn't nuzzling, clever fingers tweaking and rolling the nipple between them. "Darling, you're shirtless, on my lap, making those beautiful noises for me. Believe me, I'm getting plenty out of it." He pinched down a little harder, watching her face closely, smirking when she moaned. "You like that?"

Hermione blushed. "I've never been that sensitive there."

"You know, that would imply that you've tried," Fred murmured, taking her other nipple in his mouth again. "Who have you been in broom cupboards with, hmm?"

He did something with his tongue that made her brain stop working for a few seconds. His words caught up with her a second later, as did the slight insecurity in them, and she tugged on his hair a little until he released her, allowing her to guide his face back to hers so she could kiss him deeply.

"No one," she murmured against his mouth. "You're the only one. But I do have two hands."

His eyes darkened as he looked at her, his hands stilling. "I see. And did you make yourself feel good?"

She blushed and nodded, tugging her lower lip into her mouth.

"Hey." He touched her cheek gently, drawing her gaze back to his eyes. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Hermione. Everyone does it. I do it."

"And how often do you think about me?" Hermione asked, startling herself with her own daring.

"Every time," Fred said frankly, and without hesitation. "Have done for longer than I care to admit."

"How long?" Hermione asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

To her surprise, Fred blushed himself at that, and she smiled.

"You can tell me; I'm not going to be mad. Wait," she added, a thought striking her. "You didn't accidentally catch me in my underwear, did you?"

"No," Fred said hastily. "Nothing like that."

Hermione shrugged. "Then I'm not going to be mad at you."

"Why would you be mad if it was an accident?" Fred asked.

Hermione giggled. "Love, I don't think you've ever done anything accidentally in your life."

"I should be offended," Fred said, but he was grinning at her. "As it happens, do you remember just before Christmas, your third year? You'd come in from Care and were dripping mud, and George and I had just pissed Filch off, and he was chasing us, and I dragged you into a broom cupboard to hide from him so you wouldn't get in trouble."

Hermione felt her face heat up at the memory. She had been so mad at him at first, until he had explained in a hushed voice that Filch was on the warpath. Once her irritation had lifted, she was left with the overwhelming sensation of being pressed up against him in the tiny cramped space.

"I felt so guilty," Fred admitted softly. "I already had a thing for you, I'd just been trying to convince myself it was just a crush. And then we were there, and all of those gorgeous curves were pressed up against me, and … I just kept reminding myself that you were my baby brother's best friend, and I really shouldn't want you in the way I did. But that didn't stop me thinking about you when I was alone." He kissed her neck, suckling against the skin. "Didn't stop me from stroking myself, wishing it was your hands."

Hermione let out a little whimper at the words. "That's when I started too. I'd never really understood before. I had a crush on you, but it was fairly innocent until then." She met his eyes, despite the redness in her cheeks, her hands trailing down his bare chest. "I wanted you to do very, very not-innocent things to me after that."

Fred moaned, his head falling back. "Darling, you can't say things like … What are you doing?"

Hermione's hands stilled on his belt buckle. "Making you more comfortable."

Fred blinked at her. "You said underwear stays on."

"First of all, trousers aren't underwear," Hermione said primly. "Second of all, I said my underwear stays on. I never said anything about yours."

The stunned look on his face gave her new confidence, and she stood up, reluctantly separating himself from his body.

With the new space between them, she had the chance to look at him properly, the perfectly sculpted Beater's muscles, tapering down to a bulge in his trousers that sent heat coursing through her.

It looked bigger than it had felt.

He shook his head slowly, like he was slightly concussed, and rose to his feet to take her in his arms. "You're the most stunning thing I've ever seen."

Hermione kissed him, undoing his belt. "Don't be ridiculous please."

"I'm not," he said between kisses. "You're gorgeous … Love you so much … I'd do anything for you."

His last words were so firm, so sincere, that she just couldn't help herself. She pushed his trousers over his hips, making sure to catch his boxers at the same time.

"Hermione!" Fred gasped in mock-scandal. "You're going to get an eyeful if you're not careful, love."

Hermione smirked. "I mean, that's not quite where I was intending it to go." Before he could ask, she gave him a little push on his shoulders, just enough to off-balance him, so he sat down again.

"Mya …" Fred trailed off, watching with wide eyes as she knelt down to finish pulling off his trousers.

"It's your birthday," Hermione said softly. Her eyes travelled back up his legs (just as freckled as the rest of him) to where his hard cock had sprung free, pointing almost straight up at the ceiling.

It looked even larger like this (although logically, she figured it probably wasn't any larger or smaller than average), and think - the idea that it could somehow fit inside her both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure, and she squeezed her thighs together to try and hide the sudden wetness that threatened her knickers.

"Mya," Fred repeated, his voice shaking. "Hermione … I don't want you to feel like …"

"Fred," Hermione interrupted, stroking his thighs. "Do you want me to stop?"

Fred laughed weakly. "Do I want you to stop?! Of course I don't bloody want you to stop! But I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever done anything I don't want to?" She wrapped a hand around his cock and gave it an experimental stroke, turning his response into a groan. "I don't know what I'm doing though."

"You're doing brilliantly," Fred said in a strained voice. "And I'm really not going to last long. I've never done this either."

Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow, continuing to stroke him rhythmically.

"What we were doing earlier," he gasped out, his hips bucking up into her hand. "Done that. Never this. Most girls don't want to."

"That's a bit selfish," Hermione said.

"Nah, boys are easy," Fred said. "Just need … Fuck, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled, placing another open-mouthed kiss to his cock. "Is this okay?"

"Is this …?" He groaned. "It's fucking incredible. But I'm really not going to last long."

"That's okay," Hermione murmured. She adjusted herself on her knees, moved her hand, and took the head of his cock in her mouth, hearing a shout from above her.

He was too big to take all of him - not without considerable practice anyway - so she carried on stroking most of him, suckling on what she could fit into her mouth, making sure to keep her teeth out of the way.

She was fairly sure that would ruin the mood.

In her peripheral vision, she could see his hands clenching on the sofa beside him, so obviously holding back from grabbing her.

The mental image that conjured - the thought of him losing that well-maintained control and just claiming her - drew her attention back to the strength hidden beneath Quidditch robes and laughter lines, and she moaned around him.

He cursed, one hand finally tangling in her hair, tugging just a little urgently. "Mya … Mya … Hermione, if you don't want me to finish in your mouth, darling, you need to stop."

She appreciated the warning - it sounded sexy, in theory, and what little she knew from hushed whispers on sleepovers (because none of them would ask the older girls for sex tips, but the older girls somehow knew anyway) - but she wasn't prepared to do that just yet.

Hermione released the tip of his cock from her mouth, renewing her strokes.

He was looking down at her like he had never seen anything so beautiful, his face open and awestruck, and in that moment, she knew - truly believed - how much he loved her.

Then he was gasping her name, his lips thrusting up into her hand, and there were strands of white streaked across her chest.

Curiously, she swiped a finger through it and sucked it clean. It tasted mildly salty, but certainly not as bad as she had thought it would.

His eyes darkened at the sight, and he pulled her up, up, up, until his mouth was devouring hers once more, his chest pressed against hers, smearing his cum between them.

"That … was … the sexiest … thing … I have … ever … seen …" he told her between kisses.

The backs of her knees bumped against the sofa, alerting her to the fact that he had turned them, and was now lowering her to lay on the sofa, holding himself above her with one arm as they kissed.

The other hand snaked under her skirt, stroking her thighs, and she gasped into his open mouth.

"Want to make you feel good," Fred murmured, trailing kisses down her jaw. "May I? Knickers stay on, I promise."

Hermione could barely form words, arching up into him. "Yes …"

She felt him grin, and then his fingers were pressing against the dampness of her underwear, pressure on her clit drawing another moan from her lips.

"Fuck, Hermione, you're soaked," Fred groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder.

Hermione felt her face heat up. "Sorry?"

"No, no, don't be sorry," Fred said hastily. "That is in now way a bad thing." He began to kiss her neck. "I like knowing that you're that this wet for me."

It wasn't quite enough, him touching her through silk, and he must have been able to see that in his face.

"Can I touch you?" He asked again, pausing to meet her eyes. "Properly? They'll stay on, I promise."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip and nodded, her eyes fluttering shut when calloused fingers tugged her knickers to one side and slid against her clit for the first time.

The sensation of someone else touching her was almost too much, and she cried out, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the sofa cushions.

"You're alright," Fred whispered. He began to rub small circles. "You're alright, darling. I've got you."

"Fred …"

"I know, baby, I know." His tongue flickered over her pulse point. "So beautiful."

Hermione whimpered, arching up into his body, and he grinned, kissing his way down her chest to her belly button.

Then suddenly his fingers were gone, and she lifted her head to give him the best glare she could, as breathless as she was.

He had the nerve to chuckle at her. "Two seconds, sweetheart." He tugged on her skirt. "Can I take this off? Just this? Want to see you."

Hermione nodded again, lifting her hips so he could slide it down and toss it to one side, leaving her in nothing but white silk knickers that were so soaked through they may as well have not been there at all.

"Look at you," he breathed.

Hermione blushed, automatically moving to cover herself, but he caught her hands.

"Please don't. You're gorgeous, Hermione. Stunning. I promise." He knelt between her legs, lifting one to rest on his shoulder, pressing a hot kiss to her inner thigh.

His fingers slipped back under her knickers, stroking her softly. Her eyes closed, the novelty of the feeling fading into something pleasant and gentle, and maybe something showed on her face, because his touch became harder, rougher.

"You're so sexy," he murmured, his eyes fixed on hers. "Wonder what you'd look like with my fingers inside you."

"Fred …" Hermione said, almost warningly, even as a fresh wave of heat travelled through her body.

Judging by the smirk on his face, he felt it too. "I think you like the idea. But not tonight, darling. Next time."

"Next time," Hermione agreed breathlessly.

His other hand trailed up her thigh, brushing against the dark patch of skin half-hidden by her underwear. "Is this the birthmark you were talking about?"

"It's hideous," Hermione said.

"Sexy," Fred said instead. "Is it sensitive?" He lowered his head and sucked a bruising kiss against it.

Hermione cried out, his name echoing off the walls, and he moaned, his fingers moving faster against her clit.

"I swear, I am going to find every sing way to make you do that," he said in a low voice. "Make you call my name like that. One day, I am going to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body."

His thumb pressed down hard on her clit and she shattered, gasping his name to the ceiling.

When she came back to herself, Fred was lying alongside her, looking far too smug.

"Okay?"

"Next time," Hermione said, once she'd caught her breath. "You can do that next time." She chanced a glance at him, delighted when he turned red.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled. "Got a bit carried away."

"I quite liked it actually," Hermione admitted a little shyly. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to … talk back."

Fred chuckled. "Hey, I didn't know I was going to talk like that. You're fine." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We should probably get dressed. Get back to the Tower before you're missed."

"I don't mind staying," Hermione said softly. "Beth said she'll cover for me. I'm sure you can sneak us back in tomorrow. It's a Sunday - it's not like we've got classes. Unless …"

"No," Fred interrupted hastily. "No, I'm happy with that. But I think you should at least put a shirt on."

Hermione sighed, and stretched. "Okay, grab me yours then."

"Mine?" Fred repeated.

"I'm not sleeping in mine," Hermione said. "It's too tight."

Fred kissed her and stood up, retrieving his shirt and boxers from the floor. He tossed the shirt to her and slipped the boxers on, watching her as she did up a few of the buttons.

"You look beautiful."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'm fairly sure I look a mess."

"You do," Fred said with a grin. "A beautiful mess. In my shirt. After screaming me name."

Hermione blushed deeply. "I didn't scream it," she mumbled.

The sofa shifted to a bed beneath her, and she pulled the bed sheets over her.

"It w as sexy as hell," Fred said sincerely, returning to her side. "Seriously. Sexy as hell. If I didn't need more of a recovery time, I'd be taking a cold shower."

"Did you have a good birthday?" Hermione asked softly, cuddling into him.

"That," Fred said fervently, "was the best birthday ever."