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It all began with two words.
“Alright, Granger?” Hermione started at the voice, familiar and unexpected at the same time. One of the Weasley twins (she was fairly certain it was Fred) had emerged from the boy’s dormitory, barefoot and pajama-clad. Just like her, he seemed wide awake.
“Alright,” Hermione replied. “You?”
Fred eased himself down next to her on the sofa in front of the fire. “To be honest: I’m having trouble sleeping. Have been since we all heard about Ginny.” Fred turned to her, the usual mischievous glint in his eye gone. The new, serious Fred was a bit alarming. “George and I never got the chance to say thank you. At the feast.”
Hermione ducked her head so Fred wouldn’t see her blush. “I hardly did anything. Harry and Ron went into the Chamber-”
“Oh that’s bollocks and you know it,” Fred admonished. “You did all the research. You solved the mystery. If it wasn’t for you then Hogwarts would be shut down for good and Ginny’d-” Fred stopped suddenly. He swallowed thickly and tears welled up in his eyes. Wordlessly, Hermione handed him a handkerchief. “Thanks,” he muttered, wiping his eyes. “Suspect Percy will sob all over you if he hasn’t already. Mum and Dad as well.”
“How is Ginny, by the way?” Hermione asked.
Fred smiled. “She’s sharing a bed with me and George, actually. Said she didn’t want to face all of the girls in her room after everything that happened. She’s probably just after our sweets collection.”
Hermione laughed.
“What are you doing down here?” Fred asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Hermione shook her head. “Didn’t want to sleep. I spent too much time on that hospital bed. I wanted to spend a little while longer awake.”
“Well if you want to avoid sleep, you should come by the Burrow this summer,” Fred offered. “Never a dull moment in our house. You won’t sleep a wink. I guarantee it.”
Hermione smiled. “Well if your mother is alright with it, I might just have to take you up on that offer.”
“Alright Granger?” Fred’s head poked over the top of the armchair Hermione was sitting in. Hermione nodded absently, still scribbling furiously away in her notebook. She never did get to visit the Burrow over the summer. The Weasleys had gone to Egypt and Hermione had not.
Fred deposited himself into the armchair next to her and peeked into her notebook. “Blimey, Granger. You trying to kill yourself?”
Hermione shook her head and positioned her arm to shield the notebook from Fred’s view. “I’m only trying to map out my study plan from now until at least Christmas. Tomorrow I’ll work it out until Easter.” She looked up at Fred and gave him a smile. “How was Egypt? I heard from Ron and Ginny but I didn’t hear anything about it from you.”
“I’m sure they told you everything,” Fred said dismissively. “It was brilliant. Hot. George and I were unsuccessful in shutting up Percy in a tomb. Or was it a temple?” Hermione hit his arm. Fred grinned and rubbed at the spot. “It was brilliant seeing Bill and Charlie again.”
“I hope I get to meet them one day,” Hermione said honestly.
Fred rubbed the back of his neck, his face a little pink from the warmth of the nearby fire. “You would have loved Egypt. You probably could have told us more than any of the tour guides. There was the little bookshop and I found a book you would have loved. Didn’t have enough money to buy it, though.”
Hermione was unexpectedly touched by the confession. “Fred,” she breathed. “That’s-”
“Yeah, so I just decided to knick it instead,” he continued proudly, producing a small parcel wrapped up in brown paper and string. Hermione gasped.
“Fred Weasley, you didn’t!” Hermione admonished. She knew the twins did a lot of things but she never thought they’d stoop to stealing.
“Of course I didn’t,” Fred said cheekily. “Bill saw me eyeing it and bought it for me. Happy birthday.”
Hermione never knew that Fred knew when her birthday was. Even if she had, who would have thought that Fred Weasley would get her a present?
“Sorry it’s not prettier wrapping,” Fred apologized. Hermione shook her head as she undid the string, did away with the paper and revealed the title.
“Magical Discoveries of Ancient Egypt and the Witches and Wizards Behind Them,” Hermione read aloud. “Fred this looks wonderful. Thank you!” Hermione reached over and hugged Fred. After a moment Fred’s arms slowly wrapped around her to reciprocate.
“You’re welcome.”
“Alright, Granger?” Fred already knew the answer. Hermione sniffled and rubbed her eyes.
“No. No, I am not alright and I’d very much appreciate it if you left me alone.”
Fred wasn’t going to do that, of course. He sat down next to Hermione at her preferred table in the common room. “Was it my brother? Do George and I need to hex his toenails off? Make hair sprout from his ears to his toes? Punch him?”
Hermione shook her head, although Fred detected a small, watery smile. “No. It’s something I did and Harry and Ron are refusing to speak to me.”
Fred frowned. That didn’t sound right. “Well, what happened?” To his surprise, fresh tears welled in Hermione’s eyes and she shook her head.
“If I tell you, then you’ll hate me, too!” Hermione whimpered. “And so will George, and Wood, and the whole Quidditch team.”
So it had to do with Quidditch. “I promise, that if you tell me, I will listen to your side of the story and everything you have to say.”
“And you won’t hate me?” Hermione said quietly.
“Well I can’t promise that!” He backpedaled when he saw Hermione’s lip quiver. “Bad joke! Bad joke! I won’t hate you, I promise!”
It took some more coaxing, but Hermione finally relayed the tale of Harry’s unexpected Christmas gift that had no note attached. And given Harry’s history of having bad things happen to him during Quidditch games, Hermione felt she wasn’t wrong in her suspicions that the broom was sent to Harry by none other than mass murderer Sirius Black.
Fred was quiet for a moment, processing the information. Hermione was devastated. “I knew you’d hate me,” she cried.
“I never said that!” Fred protested. “Look, you did the right thing, Granger. Harry and Ron know it, too. They’re just too pig-headed to admit it. So keep your chin up. Everything will right as rain with those two soon.”
Hermione smiled. Sure, her eyes and nose were still red from crying, but she was smiling again and if she was feeling better, then Fred was feeling better. He grinned at her.
“But seriously, Granger. A Firebolt?” He gladly took the punch to his arm, if it would help Hermione feel better.
“Alright, Granger?” Fred had found her reading a book (of course) in the corner of the tent. Smiling, she tucked her bookmark in between the pages. “Excited for the match?”
“Yes, actually,” Hermione said. Fred’s smile was infectious. She found herself echoing it. “I’m curious to see how professional Quidditch differs from the games I’ve seen at school.”
“Well,” Fred said, puffing out his chest. “For one thing, the Beaters aren’t nearly as handsome as me.”
“And George,” Hermione added. They were, after all, twins.
“No, just me.” Hermione snorted. “Poor Georgie. I got the looks and the brains. You and I should make a club. Exclusive to witches and wizards who are smart and beautiful. Unfortunately that only means the two of us for now.”
Hermione flushed a brilliant shade of red. “I think you’ve been hit in the head with a few too many bludgers,” she muttered, flipping her book back open.
“Nonsense,” Fred said dismissively. “Don’t worry: I’ll work on the buttons and the t-shirts. You just get to plan our club’s first outing. That’s upside down by the way.”
Mortified, Hermione flipped the book back the right way, willing herself not to look at Fred’s retreating back.
“Alright Granger?” To his horror, his voice had come out almost a full octave higher than its usual pitch. Fred cleared his throat. To her credit, Hermione didn’t notice or at least pretended not to. She smiled at him.
“Hello, Fred. Do you think you could reach that book for me?” She indicated the volume just out of her reach. Fred complied with the request.
“Transfiguration?” Fred guessed, looking at the title of the book. Hermione nodded. “Thought so. I didn’t do too bad with that part of class. Did you need any help?”
“Not yet, but if I run into trouble, you’ll be the first person I ask,” Hermione promised.
“Huh,” said Fred. “Normally George and I aren’t the ones people think of when they’re in a spot of trouble.” Hermione laughed good-naturedly at that. Fred looked around to see if anybody might be listening in the vicinity. “So listen, Hermione. You know about the Yule Ball? Of course you know about the Yule Ball. Anyway, I was wondering if you might want to go. With me.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a smile, and then her face fell.
“Oh, Fred,” Hermione said sadly. Fred’s stomach turned to ice, his heart to stone. “Someone asked me already. Just yesterday. I said yes.”
Well, can’t blame a bloke for trying. “No problem.” He turned on his heel and begun to walk away from her.
“Fred?” Hermione called out. Fred stopped but did not turn to look at her. “If you had asked me first…I would’ve said yes.”
“Alright, Granger?”
Hermione put on a smile as best she could and turned around to face that familiar face. “Fred!” she said as happily as she could muster. “You clean up nice.”
Fred frowned. He read her like an open book, as always. “Is Krum not being a gentleman? George and I can try to teach him a lesson for you. But I’ll be honest: I don’t think we can take him.”
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “No. It’s not Krum.” But there was the implication that it was someone else that had upset her. Wordlessly, Fred offered his hand. Hermione took it and Fred led her out on to the dance floor as a waltz begun to play.
“I fought with Ron,” Hermione explained. “According to him, I’m fraternizing with the enemy. “
Fred shook his head. “He’s just jealous. He asked you to the ball at the last minute, you already had a date, and now nobody can take their eyes off you.” He spun her before speaking again. “I might not be able to take Krum but I could hex Ron for you?”
Hermione shook her head. A genuine smile lit up her face. “If anybody’s going to be hexing Ron, it’ll be me.” Fred grinned at that.
“I’ll provide you with an alibi if need be.” He sighed. “Ron’s an idiot, Hermione. He’s my brother, but he’s an idiot.”
Hermione pursed her lips. “The worst thing is that he expected me to just be waiting around dateless. He spent all that time mooning over Fleur and then it was unfathomable to him that I should already have a date.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk or think about him anymore. Tell me something. Anything.”
Fred looked into her eyes. “You look beautiful.”
The breath left Hermione’s body. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Where’s Angelina?”
“Off with Katie and George,” Fred dipped her and brought her back up again. A little closer than before. “Apparently I spent too much of my evening staring.”
Hermione swallowed. “At who?” She knew the answer. In that moment there were no other dancers, no other students. Just them.
The moment was broken by a tap on Fred’s shoulder. The music and lights came roaring back to Hermione, blinding and deafening. Viktor Krum stood there, an amiable smile on his face, though his eyes darted back and forth between Fred and Hermione.
“May I cut in?” Viktor said in his thick accent. Fred smiled, though it looked a little strained to Hermione. He bowed dramatically to her with a cheerful “Milady!” and walked away from the champion and his date. Hermione watched him leave the Great Hall. It wasn’t until after he had disappeared through the doorways that she realized she had been staring and had rudely been ignoring Viktor all this time.
Not just now, but the whole night. She, too, had been trying to catch glimpses of Fred. She felt awful. Viktor was perfectly sweet and she was being horrible.
“Care to dance?” she offered. Viktor eyed her speculatively and then jerked his head toward the doors.
“Go.” He said. “You can steel catch him, Herm-owninny.”
Not only was Viktor a professional Quidditch player, a Tri-Wizard Champion, and an exceptional dancer, he was also quite perceptive.
Viktor turned and sought out a witch from Beauxbatons to ask for a dance. Hermione turned on her heel and ran.
She ran all the way to Gryffindor tower, just catching a glimpse of Fred as he disappeared through the doorway to the boys’ dormitory. Hermione bounded over to the door, ripped it open, and called out “Fred!” up the staircase.
She found him half-turned on the tenth step, one eyebrow raised. Hermione bent over trying to catch a breath, a cramp forming in her side. Why did she think it was a good idea to run in heels?
“Hermione?” Fred said confused. He turned around all the way to face her. “I thought you were still at the ball.”
“I was,” Hermione gasped. “I was.” She swallowed a lungful of air, silently urged her heart to slow.
Fred looked down at her, confused. “Well, what are you doing running all the way here, then?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly. Were all Weasley men so daft? Not giving herself a chance to overthink it, Hermione marched up the rest of the steps to Fred, pulled him down by the collar and kissed him soundly. When she pulled away a moment later, Fred Weasley was, for the first time ever, completely speechless.
“Good night!” Hermione said hurriedly. She turned and bounded down the stairs, leaving behind a very shocked but very pleased Fred Weasley.
“Alright, Granger?” Fred had come up to the hospital wing the moment he’d heard what happened. Besides Hermione’s bandaged hands, she looked mostly fine.
She looked happy to see him, at least. They still hadn’t quite defined what was between them. It was sitting next to her at mealtimes, walking her to her classes until they had to part ways, holding her hand underneath the table, and, yes, occasionally snogging in dark places. But besides the snogging, there were normally other people around them and with them. He sat next to her at meals, but George, Lee, Ginny, Ron, and Harry were all there, too. He walked with her to her classes, but the same group of people were crowded around them as well. At least nobody was there to witness their secret snogging sessions.
Though Harry did have that map.
Maybe giving it to him hadn’t been the brightest idea.
“I’ll be fine in a little bit. I just have to let the ointment work,” Hermione assured him. “I seem to have committed the great offense of toying with the emotions of two champions. But people only seem to care that I’m apparently breaking the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“Well of course he’s heartbroken. You sneaking around with Fleur behind his back? That’s low, Granger.” He grinned and she glared.
“You’re only saying that because you know I can’t hit you right now,” Hermione accused.
“Nice try,” Fred said, wagging a finger at her. “I’m too clever to respond to that. Mind if I take a look?” He indicated her hand. Hermione nodded in assent. Fred took her hand in his with the utmost care, cradling it as if it were made of fragile glass. He peeked underneath the bandage wraps and made a hissing noise.
“Remind me never to break Harry’s heart. Even if it is just nasty gossip.” He tapped his finger on his chin thoughtfully before gently laying Hermione’s hand back down again. Pointing his wand at the curtains, they all drew closed with a snap.
“Pomfrey will have my head if she sees what I’m doing,” Fred explained. He quickly unwrapped one set of bandages, then the other. Pomfrey had some good remedies but he and George could make ones that were loads better. Fishing in the pocket of his robes, he took out the little jar of healing salve and started applying it to the nasty boils on Hermione’s hands.
“What is that?” Hermione asked. She sounded curious. Not wary like she normally would of whatever Fred kept in the pockets of his robes.
“Well it may come as no surprise to you that George and I do a great job of injuring ourselves quite often. As a result, we’ve become rather talented at anything to help us heal faster. Potions, powders, ointments, you name it.” He finished applying the thick goo to both of Hermione’s hands before fishing in the little bedside table for fresh bandages.
“Thank you,” Hermione said a few minutes later when Fred was finishing wrapping her second hand. He smiled at her.
“How does it feel?”
Hermione stretched her fingers experimentally. “A little tingly. But definitely nowhere near as painful as before.” Fred nodded approvingly.
“Ready to get out of here?” he asked. Hermione swung her legs off the bed, eager to leave. “So I was wondering,” Fred said conversationally as they left the hospital wing behind them. “If it won’t break Harry’s or Krum’s hearts, I was wondering if you might like to go to the next Hogsmeade visit. With me.”
Hermione slid her bandaged hand into Fred’s rough and calloused one. “I’d like that.”
Since Fred Weasley knew his mother well, knew she read the gossip magazines, knew she bought into them more than she should, he wrote to her later that night. He told her not to believe the rags. Harry had no feelings for Hermione and Hermione definitely had no feelings for either Harry or Krum. He stopped short of telling her that Hermione-and-Fred were on their way to becoming a real, legitimate couple. She wouldn’t believe that if Merlin himself rose from the grave and told her.