Somewhere on a Beach
Chapter Seven
Warm. That's the first thought that Hermione has as she slowly wakes on the final full day of her 'honeymoon'. Before even opening her eyes, she feels warm, safe and content– happy, even. So much so, that she even delays opening her eyes for as long as she can possibly justify.
Hermione breathes in deeply for a moment, inhaling a familiar, but unusual scent. It smells earthy and sweet, something like woody gunpowder mixed with fairy floss. It's warm and inviting, soft and comforting.
Hermione nuzzles her nose closer to the scent, her eyes flying open when she registers the source. Fred. More specifically, Fred's chest– where Hermione seems to have found comfort in using the aforementioned man as a pillow.
At some point during the night, Hermione appears to have broken her promise to herself, somehow ending up half-on top of Fred. He's– thankfully, still asleep– laying on his back, with one arm wrapped snugly around Hermione's back, his other hand gripped tightly onto her upper thigh, practically on her bum. The leg which Fred is holding is draped completely across his abdomen, her right foot tucked under his left leg and his head is turned so his face is buried within Hermione's mass of curls.
Hermione's heart picks up speed, fighting to beat out of her chest as her anxiety spikes. Unbidden, her right hand clenches, her fingernails dragging against the cotton of Fred's t-shirt where it sits on his pectoral muscle.
Hermione bites her bottom lip, her mind working overtime to try to think of a way to extricate herself from Fred's grip without waking him and/or alerting him to their compromising position. Her attempt at this is thwarted when Fred– seemingly still asleep– hums quietly and tugs Hermione even closer to him, using his holds on her waist and her thigh as leverage. Fred sighs almost happily as he resettles himself, relaxing into Hermione once more.
Hermione debates with herself whether to wake Fred or to just let him sleep. After all, she is rather comfortable and he is quite clearly still asleep. She wonders if it's worth it to disturb him. She also wonders if it's entirely inappropriate to snuggle like this with someone who, at one time, was destined to be her brother-in-law.
Hermione ultimately decides that, yes, it's probably inappropriate. It's also comfortable and really, quite nice– however, Fred had seemed wary of sleeping in the same bed as her for some reason or another and it's entirely possible that the reason is this.
Slowly, Hermione tries to pull back from Fred. When his strength outweighs her own, she tries to rouse him, despite wishing that she could do literally anything but that.
"Fred," Hermione whispers, though it sounds loud enough to crack glass in the otherwise quiet bedroom.
Hermione lifts her hand, brushing the tip of her index finger along the sharp cut of Fred's jaw. There's a scratchy dusting of stubble in his chin, nearly imperceptible with how light in color it is, but she can feel it, even if she can barely see it.
"Fred," Hermione repeats, placing her hand back on Fred's chest, trying to think of some way to wake him without startling him– any more than she is already going to simply by nature of their positions, anyway.
Hermione adjusts so she is leaning up on her left elbow, now looking down at Fred as he sleeps.
"Fred," Hermione tries again, this time a bit more firmly. Finally, Fred's light, strawberry blonde eyelashes flutter, his eyes opening just barely.
Hermione braces herself, unsure of what Fred's reaction might be to waking up and finding his friend nearly on top of him.
Fred's fingers tighten on both places which he still has hold of Hermione, pressing into her thigh and ribcage.
"Mm," Fred grumbles, shifting against Hermione without breaking his grasp on her. "Oh, g'morning, love."
Fred's voice is gravelly and deep with sleep and even his eyes are still not fully open yet.
"Fred," Hermione says, her voice still low as she shifts her hips, trying to indicate to the aforementioned redhead that they should probably separate themselves.
Instead, Fred's grip tightens again– almost frantically, really.
"Woah, there, 'Mione. Keep that leg where it is unless you want it to meet the tent in my trousers," Fred laughs, his lips turning up into a daring smirk as he rests back against his pillow and closes his eyes again.
Hermione's eyes widen in surprise. Did he just…?
"Uh, Fred?" Hermione asks, her voice wavering slightly. "S-shouldn't we get up?"
"Mm," Fred agrees– sort of. "In a minute. I wish that I was kidding, but alas– hard as a rock down there."
Hermione can't help it– she doesn't mean to, but she laughs. It's not a full belly laugh, but it's a chuckle nonetheless. Leave it to Fred Weasley to make a joke out of morning wood.
For some reason, the fact that Hermione now knows about Fred's condition doesn't bother her. Perhaps it's the fact that she practically grew up with boys and has been privy to many a conversation regarding inconvenient erections, but in any case, Hermione simply relaxes back into Fred's hold.
"You're so warm," Hermione breathes, her own eyelids drifting closed once more.
Fred huffs a quiet laugh, his lips turning up into a sleepy half-smile.
"You smell nice," Fred replies, almost in a whisper. "Like flowers."
Hermione smiles into Fred's chest.
"Are we about to start another compliment war, Freddie?" Hermione challenges, laughing lightly to herself.
"Oh, that definitely won't help flag the problem downstairs, 'Mione."
Hermione furrows her brows.
"What? Complimenting you?" she wonders, looking up to examine his face as he responds.
"Complimenting me, calling me 'Freddie'. Take your pick," he answers, easily, shrugging his shoulders and grinning broadly.
Hermione smirks, despite the fact that Fred can't see it.
"Wow, you're fun when you're sleepy," Hermione states, shaking her head as much as she can as she still lies against Fred's chest. "Telling me all about your 'flag', your proclivities for compliments and pet names. How do you know that I won't use this information for evil?"
Fred's smile brightens and his eyes open, meeting Hermione's gaze immediately.
"They don't call you the Gryffindor Golden Girl for nothing. You would never," Fred explains, winking down at Hermione before continuing. "And anyway, I might like it if you did."
Hermione rolls her eyes.
"You're an incorrigible flirt, Fred Weasley," Hermione says, though there's no heat behind her words. In fact, she has found this entire conversation to be quite amusing, if she's being honest.
"Guilty."
Hermione and Fred stay in bed for approximately thirty more minutes, chatting quietly about their plans for their last day. Eventually, the pair decide to head downstairs for breakfast– together, for the first time since their trip began.
Once Fred finally releases Hermione, she untangles her own limbs from him and rolls onto her back to let him free as well. Immediately, Hermione finds herself mourning the loss of Fred's body against hers– his warmth, the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice in her ear. A part of her wants to ask for just five more minutes, but she knows that she can't do that.
Waking up in Fred's arms– and subsequently having to leave said arms– reminds Hermione almost violently of her own loneliness. Up until a few weeks ago, Hermione had been sharing a bed with someone fairly regularly. She had someone to snuggle up next to in the mornings. Of course, Hermione doesn't miss Ron– especially in light of his infidelity– but she does miss having someone to share her life with.
"Ready?" Fred asks, leaning against the doorway to their room with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.
Fred had gotten up first, disappearing into the restroom within their suite in order to get dressed, returning now in a dark blue t-shirt and denim jeans.
"Just about," Hermione replies, tugging her sweatshirt down over her stomach and pulling her plait over her shoulder.
Fred smiles brightly at Hermione, waiting patiently for her to finish getting ready and stepping back to allow her through the door when she does.
As has become normal for them, as Hermione and Fred walk side-by-side down to the lobby of the hotel, the aforementioned redhead slings his arm over her shoulders and tugs her close against his side, leaning into the farce that is their 'marriage'.
"Oh, how lovely it is to see you both this morning!" Linda cheers when Hermione and Fred enter the dining room.
Hermione and Fred approach Linda's coffee stand, both smiling in greeting to the kind, older woman.
"I've already prepared your usual order for you, Mr. Weasley," Linda explains, handing a paper bag to Hermione and the to-go coffee cup holder to Fred. "But of course, if you'd like something different, I'm happy to switch anything out."
Fred looks down at Hermione, silently asking if she would like a change, to which she shakes her head. She's become accustomed to her daily hazelnut coffee and chocolate cake donut and she doesn't intend on changing now.
"Thank you, Linda," Hermione smiles at the kind woman before looking up at Fred. "Can we go sit outside by the beach for breakfast?"
Fred puts on his best fake-husband-doting-on-his-wife smile and nods, "Whatever you want, love."
"Well, you two lovelies enjoy your breakfast now," Linda beams, waving goodbye as Hermione and Fred head out the side door in the direction of the beach.
"I want to take you out for dinner tonight– for a nice dinner in the dining room. I'm not sure if you brought a nice dress, but we can always transfigure one," Fred states as he sips from his coffee cup, his free hand slung over the back of the bench behind Hermione's shoulders. "I just think that we should do something nice for our last night here."
Hermione twists on the bench so that she is facing Fred fully, quickly nodding in agreement.
"That sounds lovely, Fred," Hermione says with a smile, picking a piece of her donut apart and taking a bite before washing it down with her coffee. "Thank you."
Fred tips his head in acknowledgement of Hermione's thanks but doesn't respond verbally. The pair stay in that companionable silence for a handful of moments before Hermione breaks it again.
"Fred?" Hermione asks, taking another swig of her coffee before continuing when Fred raises his eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "How did you know that I like hazelnut coffee?"
Even Ron had never seemed to grasp Hermione's preferences– for anything, really– so it surprises her that Fred had seemed to know that she enjoyed hazelnut coffee. She doesn't remember ever telling him that preference, anyway.
"What do you mean?" Fred wonders, tilting his head slightly in confusion. "I've known you for most of my life. When you lived at the Burrow, you always had bags of Muggle coffee and it was always hazelnut flavored. It wasn't hard to notice."
Hermione gapes at him for a moment, unsure of how to process his explanation.
"I also know that you prefer coffee over tea, but you're afraid to say that because you're British. Your favorite mug for your coffee is the yellow one with the chipped handle that Harry got you for your birthday the year after the War. I think it has daisies or something on it," Fred continues, unprompted. "You even travel with that mug– like, you bring it to work and when you stop by the shop– which is probably how it got chipped in the first place."
Hermione briefly looks down at her hands as she processes what Fred has just said before looking back up, meeting his bright blue eyes almost deeply. He's right on both points. The sunshine yellow mug, which had been a gift from Harry, is, to this day, her favorite coffee mug– and there is a small chip on the underside of the handle that had happened one day when she was taking it back and forth to work. She knows that she could repair it with magic if she wanted to, but there's something about it now looking as well-loved as it is that just makes her smile.
"I- I didn't realize that you'd noticed those things," Hermione whispers, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and running the tips of her fingers over the lip of her coffee cup in an effort to distract herself.
Fred sets his coffee down on the bench between them, using his now freed hand to hook his finger under Hermione's chin, tilting her face up to really look at him.
"I always notice you, Hermione."
Hi, friends! Happy Friday! (:
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