Chapter Text
She was seriously contemplating killing Harry Potter.
A slow and painful death would be preferable. No Avada Kedavra for him - his death would be too quick and painless for her liking in that case. And at this point, she really thought he deserved to suffer. He may have been able to survive against Voldemort, but he wouldn’t get so lucky against her…
Ok, so maybe she was being a bit dramatic. She could admit that. But she had to question why Harry had thought that it would be a good idea to give Fred Weasley, of all people, a book of muggle pick-up lines for Christmas.
She had known it was a mistake the moment that stupid book had been unwrapped.
Of course, Harry wouldn’t be on the receiving end of those pick-up lines, so she supposed that he thought it wouldn’t be a problem for him. And, to be fair, he had been right. Until now. Now, she would make it his problem.
Surprisingly, it had only really turned out to be a problem for her. For some reason that she could not understand, it seemed as though Fred had made it his mission to try out as many pick-up lines from the book on her as possible. And she was seriously beginning to doubt that he would stop tormenting her when he ran out of ones from the book.
Her luck just wasn’t that good.
She had hoped for a quiet day of shopping in Diagon Alley. It was New Year's Day, so she figured that most people would be having a bit of a lie-in after all the celebrations the night before. Her goal was simple - get in and out before the crowds hit later that afternoon.
She really should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Hey, Granger! Feel my jumper. Know what it’s made of?”
She stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street with a groan, tilting her head back toward the sky and offering up a silent prayer to Merlin, Morgana, and Godric freaking Gryffindor for patience. She knew that it would be best to let him catch up to her and just get this over with. She had learned from experience that he would just cause more of a scene if she ignored him. Better to face this head-on.
She turned around and thankfully found that he was not too far behind her. She pulled her cloak around her a little tighter as she waited for him to close the gap between them, shielding herself from the cold breeze that whipped through the streets. She was just thankful that it was not snowing.
“Hmm...let me guess,” she replied when he reached her, running a finger lightly down the front of his dark blue jumper. “Fred, is that boyfriend material? Wherever did you manage to find that?” she asked in mock surprise before she rolled her eyes at him and resumed walking.
“Cheeky witch.” Fred winked at her and slung his arm around her shoulders. “This is actually the jumper that mum made me for Christmas this year. So it’s just made out of plain old wool, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, and I’m sure you chased me down the Alley just to show me your newest Weasley jumper - which I have already seen. And it obviously had nothing to do with wanting to try out one of those new pick-up lines of yours.”
“I didn’t chase you. And maybe I just wanted to find an excuse to chat up a pretty witch.”
She scoffed and shrugged his arm off. “If that were true you certainly wouldn’t have come to talk to me. I’m sure you passed at least a dozen pretty witches on your way down the street to annoy me.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t see a dozen pretty witches on my way to annoy...I mean... find you. But maybe there’s something wrong with my eyes. I can't seem to take them off of you whenever you’re around.”
She groaned. There was cheesy, and then there was cheesy. And she had pretty much set him up for that one. “Do you ever stop?”
“Nope. What are you up to, anyway?” Fred asked, slinging his arm over her shoulder again. She chose not to shrug his arm off this time. It was cold, after all, and he was much warmer than she was. Who was she to turn away extra body warmth?
“Just running a few errands,” she replied with a sigh, hoping that the pick-up lines were out of his system for now. “Already picked up everything I need, but I was thinking about making a stop by Flourish and Blotts before I head back home. I have the rest of the day free, so...”
“Well, I’m on my way to grab some lunch at the Leaky. Care to join me?”
She nodded. “I could eat. But only if you promise that there will be no more pick-up lines today.”
He raised an eyebrow in response to that. “Just today?”
“I know better by now than to press my luck and hope for anything more long term than that. Aim low, and you won’t be disappointed,” she deadpanned.
He laughed. A full belly laugh that probably would have had him doubled over if he had not had his arm still around her. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face in response to his laugh. It made her even happier to know that something she said had brought out that laugh from him.
The war had been hard on all of them. And for a while, she had been worried that the aftermath of the war would break him and George. Fred had been in residence at St Mungo’s for almost six full months due to the near life-threatening injuries he sustained during the final battle and then spent another six months doing out-patient physical therapy. Even now, nearly seven years later, he would end up with a slight limp by the end of the day if he pushed himself too hard.
During the first few months following the war, before going back to Hogwarts to complete her studies and take her NEWTS, she had spent quite a bit of time visiting him in the hospital.
Hermione had taken it upon herself to make sure that George took care of himself and occasionally went home to eat and sleep while his twin was recovering from his injuries. If it had been up to him, he probably never would have left Fred’s side. But Hermione nagged him enough that he eventually gave in, and she would take over for him to make sure that Fred was never left alone.
At first, he had mostly slept while she was there. But over time, they started talking. And even when she left to go back to Hogwarts she had made a point to write to him at least twice a week to make sure that both he and George were alright.
Their friendship had grown over the years, and she was thankful that things had not turned out worse than they had for all of them.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he replied, snapping her back to the present moment as he led her in the direction of the pub. “Come on, Hermione. I’ll even buy your lunch.”