Chapter 21

August 20th 1999

Wardrobe

Despite what had been one of the more terrifying conversations of her life, beaten only by her initial meeting with Fred and possibly McGonagall's first visit when she had been eleven, Hermione was surprised to find herself almost relieved that George now knew that she was coming around the shop and spending time with Fred. It made it much easier for her to show up at Fred's flat at random times during the week, mostly to borrow books, and it saved everyone a lot of shock and awkwardness the one time she forgot to add the "upstairs" when she called out his address and accidentally appeared in the stockroom downstairs.

George had simply smirked at her and waved her on her way, though she had heard him snickering behind her as she climbed the stairs. Now that he could be honest with his brother, Fred seemed like a weight had been lifted, one that she hadn't even been aware of which left her feeling a little more guilty that she had been the reason he had been weighed down even slightly. He had reassured her countless times and she had relented that she wasn't to blame, but she still felt bad for it. George had been understanding, it seemed, that her Friday dinners with Fred had been incredibly helpful to her and had stayed out of their hair for the most part, though he did poke his head in and say hi before he left to go home for the night.

Hermione had noticed something else, too, though this was more something that she had realised about herself than about Fred. She found herself relaxing more and more around him, even to the extent that she now made actual efforts to sit next to him and found excuses to touch him. She'd only been hugged once in fifteen months and it hadn't been dreadful, but as she had stood in Fred's living room with George's arms around her, she had recognised a small part of her, or not so small perhaps, that felt like she was being held by the wrong twin.

She had laid in bed awake many nights, staring at the ceiling and battling with her own brain as it tried to convince her of her own feelings, but she could no longer ignore the physical pull that she felt towards him whenever they happened to occupy the same space. While she knew that these feelings would, more than likely, never escalate beyond a small crush on someone who cared about her and was helping her out of her pit of self-imposed isolation, she felt tired of constantly trying to convince herself that she felt nothing.

So she had begun to allow herself to revel in his company and attention, even though she failed to see any hope of reciprocation. Having admitted that she had feelings for Fred, she had rediscovered a desire to look nice and it was for this reason that she currently stood in her bedroom, surrounded by clothes that she had given up trying to sort through weeks before, trying to find something that would look presentable and maybe even appealing. She hated to sound like one of the girls from the Muggle teenage romance movies she had watched during her childhood, but she had absolutely nothing to wear.

"Hermione?" his voice carried from the living room and she jumped, having not heard the floo spit him out. She looked down at herself, realising she was only wearing a bra and knickers before leaping from the bed and snatching her dressing gown from where it hung on her bathroom door. Just in time, too, because Fred poked his head around her bedroom door just as she tied the cord.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, watching him carefully as he surveyed the state of her bedroom and chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's 7:30," he said, furrowing his brow and she gasped, his timekeeping verified when she turned to the clock on her bedside table, "I got worried when you didn't show up."

"Oh." she murmured, sighing as she crossed and sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. He smiled as he watched her, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"What happened?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow when she groaned, "wardrobe issues?"

"The issue is more my lack of wardrobe," she grumbled, glaring at the haphazard pile of clothes at the end of her bed, "everything I own is either old, stained, ripped or some combination of those."

She heard him sigh before he crossed to her, stepping over some discarded t-shirts and jeans as he went, before he sat down next to her and the bed dipped ever so slightly under his weight. Their shoulders were touching, as were their knees, and she soaked in the warmth that his body threw off as they sat there silently for a few moments. She was shocked, though happy when he put his arm behind her back and leaned on it, twisting his body towards her and tugging on the hem of her dressing gown with a chuckle.

"What about this?" he grinned and she glared at him as she lifted her hand and lightly tapped the back of it against his leg, causing him to laugh, "what? I think it's cute."

"I can't and won't eat dinner with you while wearing a dressing gown, Fred," she groaned, though she dipped her head down to hide the smile his comment caused, along with the redness of her cheeks, "I need some nice clothes, but I have no idea when I'll have time to go and get any!"

He hummed his understanding before they fell into silence again, his arm still crossed over his lap and his fingers still lightly grazing her leg through the fluffy dressing gown. Her work schedule had picked up ever since Kingsley had returned, full with new ideas for legislation that he wanted to 'borrow' from the German ministry. She had found that she actually needed to bring her work home with her, rather than simply doing it out of choice or to distract herself as she had done in the past.

There seemed to be endless things for her to proofread, not to mention the research and the ever increasing use of the translation charm Fred had taught her in order to figure out the wording the German ministry used and try to implement it in their own new bylaws. It had been a stressful few weeks, which only made Hermione all the more grateful for the few relaxed hours she spent with Fred. Sighing deeply, she forgot herself for a moment and dropped her head against his shoulder. She froze as she realised what she had done, but was reassured when he rested his chin on top of her head and relaxed against him. She felt the air move her hair when he sighed, nudging her knee slightly with his own.

"Let's go shopping," he said suddenly and she reluctantly lifted her head to turn and frown at him, "come on, get dressed. Let's go get you some new clothes."

"I don't feel like going to Diagon Alley right n-"

"Not Diagon Alley," Fred grinned, standing and offering her his hand, "we'll go into muggle London. The shops are still open, right?"

"They probably close at 9." she confirmed.

Taking his hand, she allowed him to pull her up and found that they were suddenly very close together and the smell of his aftershave hit her nostrils unexpectedly, causing her to wobble slightly on her feet and his hand shot to her waist, steadying her. Time seemed to freeze as she looked up at him while he looked down at her. She could have sworn his eyes flicked to her lips momentarily and she knew absolutely that her own gaze did the same trail on his face. Her left hand was in his right hand, his left hand held her at the waist and Hermione gulped, both terrified and excited by the intimate moment. After a couple of seconds, she thought that he moved his head slightly closer before he closed his eyes and cleared his throat, stepping back slightly as his hands fell from holding her. He smiled and she forced herself to do the same, despite the pang of disappointment that hit her hard as he moved away.

"So how about it?" he asked, grinning at her when she rolled her eyes, "you might never have the chance to drag me shopping again. This is a one time offer."

"Fine," she sighed, his grin infectious as her own mouth joined in, "but I feel like you're the one doing the dragging here."

He simply winked at her, the same wink that never failed to send blood rushing to her face these days and she chuckled to herself as she watched him leave and walk towards her living room. She heard the grunt he made as he flopped down onto the sofa before she groaned quietly and flopped back down onto her bed, throwing her arm across her face as she tried to process whatever the hell had just happened. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn blind that they just had a moment and if that moment had been in any of those teenage romance dramas, it would have resulted in a kiss between the two of them. But this wasn't a teenage romance drama, this was real life and he was simply assisting her to stay on her feet when she had wobbled. She groaned again, kicking her feet against the wood of her bed frame in an almost tantrum like manner, before pushing herself up and onto her feet.

"You okay?" he called from the living room and she sighed, calling back that she was before picking up the nearest clothes and throwing them on.

They didn't need to go far to find some clothing shops that were still open, venturing as far as the streets around Covent Garden before Hermione dragged Fred into the first of what would turn out to be many shops. In here, she found some more feminine tops that would serve to accentuate her newly reforming figure, but all of the trousers she tried on seemed to hang off her in the wrong ways and did nothing for her self-esteem. In the second shop she was more successful in her search for trousers, but it turned out to be an absolute disaster when it came to tops. And so it went, in and out of shops buying one item in one, two in another and none in the worst ones. Fred insisted on carrying her bags for her, despite her offering to go into a side alley and shrink them down, offered suggestions and opinions when she asked for them. He never complained that she was taking too long or that he was bored; on the contrary, he seemed to be having the time of his life and it baffled her, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it too much and simply enjoyed spending time with him. That was, until he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop outside of a shoe shop.

"Time for some new shoes, too?" he asked, gesturing down to her feet where she wore the same old ruined ones he had come to know so well.

"These shoes are special…" she said quietly, shuffling her feet nervously as she looked up at him.

Fred smiled sadly before looking around for somewhere for them to sit down so they could talk without holding up anyone on the pavement. Spotting a small café across the road, he looked both ways as she had repeatedly reminded him to do and put his hand to the small of her back, guiding her over the road. She frowned at him, but allowed him to guide her until they reached the café and he pointed to an empty table, approaching it and putting her bags down in an empty seat. He pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit down and she felt the chair hit the back of her legs as he pushed it underneath her, catching her as she sat down. He lifted his hand and squeezed her shoulder before leaving her there, going into the café and returning a few minutes later with two coffees and two plates, each laden with a large slice of chocolate cake. She watched him carefully, a small smile on her lips as he handed her the snack, before moving to his own chair and sitting down. She felt the warmth of his leg against hers under the table and revelled in it. He paused to take a bite of his cake, humming in appreciation, before he leaned forwards and smiled softly at her.

"Tell me about these shoes." he said bluntly and she coughed on her mouthful of coffee, surprised by how easily he had asked. No one had ever asked her about them before. She gulped, placing her fork on her plate next to the untouched cake and stared at the icing on top as she spoke, her hand shaking slightly where it lay on the table.

"During the summer before our seventh year," she started, her voice wobbling slightly as she forced herself to talk about this for the first time, "my parents and I went to New York for a holiday. I'd always wanted to go and they said that as I was turning 17, they wanted to do something special, because I would be losing the trace."

"They knew about the trace?" Fred asked, clearly impressed at their knowledge considering they were muggles and Hermione snorted sadly, nodding.

"They took great interest in the magical world, always asking questions and doing research. I caught Mum reading A History of Magic, once," she told him, making sure to keep her voice low so no one overheard them. Daring to look up at him briefly, she took strength from his warm, patient smile, "anyway, we went to New York and there was a shoe shop there. Little muggle shop, just off of Times Square. Mum and Dad told me they wanted to buy me a pair, but they were really expensive."

"I'm assuming they bought you them anyway?" he chuckled and she nodded, dropping her gaze back to the table as she felt her eyes burn in a way she hadn't done in a very long time.

"Mum sent my Dad back to get them while we were queuing for food." she said quietly, rolling her eyes at the memory and a lone tear escaped her left eye and she took her hand from her lap to wipe it away before letting it fall back against her thigh, "it was… The last gift they ever bought for me."

"What happened to them?" Fred asked gently and she was surprised but glad when his own hand reached out and took hers, pulling it closer so that he could hold it comfortably over the table.

She sighed. Apart from Harry and Ron, no one had ever known what happened to her parents before the war. She had allowed everyone to believe whatever they wanted, whether that be that her parents had died, fled or otherwise. She assumed most people believed them to have died, or that they simply lived far away which is why she didn't see them any more. The truth was so much worse than that, though. They weren't dead, but they may as well be and while they did leave far away, that wasn't why she didn't see them. They didn't know who she was and that was entirely down to her own doing. She gulped again, swallowing down the surge of emotion that she felt talking about this dark secret, borrowing strength from Fred through his hand where it attached to hers. With a deep sigh, she forced herself to make eye contact.

"I obliviated them."

"Oh," Fred gasped, eyes as wide as she had ever seen them as his grip on her hand tightened, "Hermione I… I'm so sorry."

"I chose to do it," she whispered, shaking her head and laughing bitterly, "I orphaned myself."

"You had no choice," he told her, shaking her hand with his own and reaching his other hand out to cup her jaw, lifting her head and forcing her to maintain eye contact with him as he continued, "you did the right thing, you saved them. You were so brave to do that, I definitely couldn't have done it. I'm proud of you."

He used his thumb to brush away the second tear she had cried in over a year and she leaned into his hand, shocked and deeply touched by his words.