Title: breezing into joke shops (in search of good coffee).

Summary:"What can I do for ya, curly?" The bartender asks, grinning at his own nickname. "Curly," she snorts, "real creative." The bartender shrugs: "I mean, it was either that or calling you beautiful, and I didn't want you to faint on the spot." She rolls her eyes. He doesn't see her blush. [Fred x Hermione. Fremione. AU. Oneshot.]

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters used in this work.

breezing into jokes shops (in search of good coffee).

by michellejjones.

She meets him during her first day of her last year at Oxford,when she breezes into a joke shop in search of coffee. She'd come into this place on a whim; normally she would have walked right past, but the sign out front (tea, toys, coffee, and other things that are coy - found inside!) caught her eye. They didn't really have coffee in England; not good coffee, anyway. She's curious. Well. She's always curious, but today and about the coffee especially. Hoping to God that it's good, she steps inside the store and is, to put it mildly, blown away.

She thanks the heavens that sign brought her inside, because this place is breathtaking.

Crowds are crammed into aisles, and toys and other gadgets line the shelves, all made by whoever owns this little haven, it seems. WWW is painted across the wall directly in front of her in dark purple, and she remembers the name of the shop: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She wonders who Weasley is. He must be quite the character.

She passes a rack full of what's labeled "The Beginner's Prank Kit" before craning her neck to look up a staircase. It branches off to what looks like the coffee shop; higher up the stairs disappear behind a heavy dark purple curtain that's labeled "Adult." She huffs. Interesting.

Her feet begin to step on the stairs, and when she reaches the little landing where the coffee shop sits, she looks down at the sea of people and thinks this place really is something. The line for the coffee (or tea, or hot chocolate; these people seem to have everything) is long, but she can be patient when she wants to be, and besides, she's got time. Her first class isn't until eleven, and it's only nine thirty right now. The line edges forward, and she pulls out her phone to shoot a text to Harry. (if you're not awake i'm going to cry.)

(i hate it when you cry, he responds, and she grins, typing back i know before pocketing her phone.)

She's two people away from the front when she realizes that there's more than just "coffee" on the menu. Suddenly at a loss for what to get, she desperately scans the menu, but there's so many options. The people pass and before she knows it, she's been shoved to the front, and there she finds a particularly good-looking young man grinning lazily at her.

"What can I do for ya, curly?" The bartender asks, grinning at his own nickname.

"Curly," she snorts, "real creative."

"I mean," the bartender shrugs, "it was either that or beautiful, and I didn't want you to faint on the spot." He winks at her, and when she looks up he's staring straight into her eyes. Something's settled there, in his green irises. It looks a little bit like interest. She quickly dismisses the thought.

The line has grown longer. She steps closer to the counter again and sighs, decided to ignore his attempt at flirtation. "I don't know what to get..."

"Is this your first time here?" He nods when she says it is. "Don't worry," that grin is back, but it's alert now, excited. "I got you. Do you have something that you really don't like?"

"Not really," she shrugs, "but I'm mostly here to see how good your coffee tastes."

The grin grows. "Well, curly, I assure you: you won't be disappointed."

She snorts. "We'll see about that."

The bartender turns away from her, and she catches sight of freckles on his hands and arms as he rolled up his sleeves. The other bartender takes his place at the cashier, and she steps aside, waiting patiently; the first bartender never took her name, and she doesn't want him giving away her first Weasley's Wizard Wheezes coffee. Two minutes later he turns towards her, a drink in one hand and a sharpie in the other. Writing something on it, he gives it to her before saying. "Enjoy, curly."

"How much do I owe you?" She asks, confused.

"You don't owe us anything; the first drink's always on us." The lazy grin makes an appearance again, all lopsided and easy.

"Oh," she smiles to herself. "Thank you..."

"Fred."

She blinks. "I'm Hermione." Taking a moment, she adds, "not curly."

Fred runs a hand through his ridiculously ginger hair, "who says you can't be both?"

Hermione rolls her eyes at him. "Have a nice day, Fred."

She turns her back on him, but Fred yells after her: "See you soon, curly!"

Hermione hadn't really thought to look at what Fred had scribbled until she'd taken the first sip of the coffee he'd given her and, well. It was good.

Actually, it was better than good.

This coffee was fantastic.

She sips it again, and Hermione decides that she's definitely going back tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. And possibly she'll live here after she graduates, just for the coffee. Turning the cup over, she sees a neat scrawl in black sharpie that says: told you that you'd like the coffee, curly. and also, your eyes are breathtaking.

Hermione frowns at the last sentence. She has boring brown eyes. No one's ever called them breathtaking.

Her phone rings, tearing her away from that train of that, and she checks the caller ID to see it's Harry. "Hey," she picks up, and Hermione can hear him breathe out on the other end.

"Thanks for waking me up."

"Someone has to look after you."

"You're so pompous." Harry snorts, "but seriously, thanks; with Teddy at his grandma's I sort of almost slept in."

"I'm your big sister; I'll always seem pompous to you no matter what I do." Hermione grins, because she can imagine her foster brother grimacing on the other end at the sheer truth of that statement. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

Harry whines on the line, "what, a guy can't call his sister just because he wants to?" Silence crackles, before Hermione breaks into laughter and Harry copies her. "Just wanted to say that I'll get in late today, so don't text or call me til I text or call you."

"My brother," Hermione hums, "the detective."

"My sister," she can hear him grinning, "the law and journalism student. Future lawyer?"

"No," Hermione shrugs, "I'm hoping to do some good in the world."

Harry snorts. "Call you later. Bye, Hermione."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

Harry hangs up and Hermione slides the phone into her pocket, catching the sight of a familiar figure as she does so. "Neville!" Hermione calls out, and Neville looks up, along with a short blond girl Hermione hadn't noticed before: Luna Lovegood. "Luna!" Hermione cries. They stop, waiting for her, and when she catches up they greet her warmly.

"How goes it, Hermione?" Neville asks, and Luna grins silently. "We were just about to text you and say we were meeting Ginny by the library."

"By which library?"

Neville frowns. Luna answers: "we'll know when we get there."

Hermione restrains from looking at Neville. She knows she'll laugh at his expression if she looks. Luna walks on ahead of them, and Neville hangs back. "It's weird. Not being here with them." Hermione nods at his words. "Even after having our third year without them, it's weird to know we'll graduate this year and they won't be sitting with us. They'll be watching us."

She nods, "It's odd. But Harry's gone on to his calling," Hermione says, "and Ron has gone on to the same."

"Not everyone needs to go to uni."

She nods. "But we're not everyone."

Neville offers her his arm, and she takes it. "Let's get to work, Granger," he says, watching her sip her coffee.

"Right back at you, Longbottom."

Harry and Hermione had met Ron in their freshman year of uni, and along with Ron came the friendship of Neville. A year later, there came Luna, and Ron's younger and only sister, Ginny.

Harry had fancied her immediately.

Hermione didn't blame him; Ginny was beautiful, funny, witty, intelligent, and a plethora of things that made her practically irresistible to her raven-haired brother. They got on well, their personalities complementing and blending together in a way that Hermione admired, and she'd watched the heart-eyes that would go up whenever Harry would lay eyes on the redheaded young woman. Ron, who'd quickly become Harry and Hermione's best friend (it felt right, somehow; as if a completion of a trio that had long been separated), noticed it as well. And though he could be hotheaded, he was also rational and wanted the best for his friends. "They're soulmates, you know," he said to her one night, when they were both exhausted from watching Harry and Ginny bicker good-naturedly.

Hermione had nodded. "If ever there were soulmates, it's them."

At the time Ginny had had a boyfriend, but she'd broken up with him a couple weeks after that, and a month or so later, they'd kissed in front of God and everyone, Harry taking Ginny in his arms as if it had been the most natural thing in the world after she'd come to him, radiant, exclaiming that her football team had won the championship.

(After the kiss, Harry had looked over Ginny at Ron's shoulder. Hermione had watched in amusement as Ron had tilted his head, as if to say, do what you must. It must be exhausting, she'd thought, pretending you weren't elated at the thought of your best friend and sister getting married. And they would get married. Everyone knew it.)

Towards the end of their sophomore year, Harry had gotten a call. It had been midnight when he'd received it, and it had been three in the morning when he, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny all stumbled into the precinct where the call to Harry had been made. They'd all crammed into a small room, a dark window in front of them, where a man was sitting, feet perched on the metal table. He was beautiful, all sharp angles and piercing eyes, but when they'd stopped moving, those eyes had snapped upwards to gaze straight at Harry, and Hermione had seen a smile on that man that was so twisted, she'd forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"Is that him?" One of the officers asked. "We know it's been a while, but-"

"It's him." Harry's voice was absolute. "It's Tom Riddle."

The air in the room had stilled.

They'd all known, by now, of Harry's past. Hermione more than most; Harry's past was the reason he'd grown up with her, after all. This man before them had killed Harry's parents, and, fourteen years later, this man had laid eyes on Harry, got him alone, and done unspeakable things to him.

"Ms Granger," one of the officers turned to her, and, to Hermione's surprise, Luna and Neville as well. "Ms Lovegood, Mr Longbottom; please come with us." After a moment, he'd added in a quiet voice, "when you're ready, Mr Potter, we need you as well."

She'd watched Harry blink, watched him turn, caught the sheen of sweat that had stuck itself to his forehead. As he turned she saw that gruesome scar, long and zagged (Ron once likened it to a lightning scar), running all the way across Harry's forehead. It flashed underneath the dim lights of the room. And Hermione, turning back to Tom Riddle, felt an understanding settle into her chest: should this man ever get loose, she would kill him. If she had to, she would kill this man.

They walked to a room all the way on the other end of the precinct, and, upon opening it, were greeted with a completely different sight; instead of someone sitting calmly and coolly in the interrogation room, this woman was screaming, her wrists shaking in her cuffs, hands in fists as she moved violently. Saliva was falling out of her mouth and her eyes were crazed as they searched the mirror. Hermione could hear her screaming something, but she hadn't tuned in to hear what.

Because, well, here she was.

(The word she'd carved into her arm, big and brutal, stung. Hermione clamped her hand over it.)

The devil's right-hand herself.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Luna said, in a detached sort-of manner, and if it weren't for the haunting in her large, pale eyes, Hermione would have thought her facade to be real. Luna must have felt everyone's bewildered stares, because she'd said, "Bellatrix tortured and raped me."

Hermione blinked. "She tortured me."

"Because of the pigment of your skin?" Luna asked. Upon seeing the surprise on Hermione's face, she'd added, "that's why she tortured me. Because I published an article saying that all human beings were deserving of love, respect, and human dignity; not matter what your skin tone."

Hermione had nodded mutely. Neville had whispered, "she drove my parents insane."

(She'd done more than just these things. She had killed Harry's godfather. She had done so many things. And who had trained her? Tom Riddle.)

Harry's hand had come up to grasp Hermione's arm, and all of a sudden, the words that Bellatrix had been screaming became sharp and clear. It felt as if Hermione had been pulled above water.

Her scar burned.

After that, the group had been closer. Ginny and Ron told them of how their family had been affected by the Death Eaters (Tom Riddle's movement), and the group found that they had more in common than they thought.

What a tragedy.

Two weeks after she's made a habit of going to get coffee at WWW, she comes home to her flat to find Neville, her roommate, inspecting the small collection of coffee cups that have Fred's handwriting tattooed on them.

glad you came back. you're brave, curly.

That's the one that Neville holds up to her first, and Hermione has flashbacks to Fred giving her their weirdest flavored drink, two days ago. Neville wordlessly holds up another one.

curly: i'm a barista, so it's not too cheesy to say that i like you a latte.

Hermione inwardly cringes at that one; it's cute to receive, but she's mortified at someone else reading the private messages Fred leaves her.

hey, curly, what do you call a can opener that doesn't work?

Neville holds up the next:

a can't opener!

The last one isn't as extravagant, but it makes Hermione blush the most: you have courage in your convictions, curly.

"Care to share?" Neville asks Hermione.

"The barista is awfully nice," Hermione replies weakly.

(The next morning she tells Fred about the incident, and he spends the next ten minutes laughing.)

(She likes his laugh.)

Ron had dropped out first.

It had been the last week of school when he'd announced, "your man isn't returning next year."

Harry had raised a brow, "where are you going, Neville?"

The group had laughed, and Ron had rolled his eyes. "Your other man isn't returning next year." They'd looked at him, waiting for the joke, but it never came. There was just Ron, standing there in all his glory, the Weasley King. "I'm dropping out."

Hermione hadn't been pleased, but after he'd explained his train of thought, she'd understood. "Ginny and I's older brothers, Fred and George, have these shops, and they're opening up a third location that they asked me to run. And, well," he'd shrugged, "I've always liked laughter."

In that moment, basking in his feeling of knowing where he was heading, Ron Weasley, for the second time in his life, looked like he belonged.

Harry didn't go back for junior year. He left for several reasons; the first was that his mentor, Remus Lupin, was shot dead, along with Lupin's wife, Nymphadora. Entrusted to Harry's care had been Teddy Lupin, the only son of the late couple.

The second reason he left was to go train to become an officer. It had been Remus' job, and Nymphadora's. It had been his father's job and his godfather's job, but more importantly, it was Harry's calling, and Hermione had known it since she'd met the glasses-clad lad. "I'm gonna arrest them, Hermione," Harry had said to her, when she'd stopped by to visit his tiny apartment. Teddy was cooing in his arms. "I'm gonna arrest all of those damn Death Eaters. And I'm gonna recapture Tom Riddle, I'm gonna recapture Bellatrix, too. So when Teddy's older I-" Harry had stilled, watching Teddy lovingly.

"So when Teddy's older, I can tell him those bastards are good and dead."

Now it's a whole year later, their senior year at uni, and Ginny is engaged to Harry. Luna is dating Ron, Neville has his eye on a girl with whom he shares a class ("Hannah Abbott is literally the most beautiful creature of all time."), and Hermione gets coffee everyday from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Teddy Lupin is two years old and Harry has dropped him off to her care for the weekend while he's off working overtime on a case (not the case, but hopefully one that will lead to it). Hermione does what any self-respecting human would do if your toddler woke you up at the buttcrack of dawn.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has just barely been unlocked and opened when she strides in at around six in the morning, Teddy in one arm and her tote bag in the other. Most of the toys haven't been turned on and some of the lights are still off, but even in the dark the little toddler is still in awe. "Auntie, what is this place?" He asks in his little garbled voice, and she grins to herself.

"It's called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Hermione explains to him, "and it's wonderful."

A voice laughs behind them. "That's why we put wizard in the name, after all; to represent how otherworldly we tried to make this place."

And there he is.

She turns, Teddy still in her arms, and upon seeing her with the toddler, she sees a look in Fred's eyes; something she can't place. It isn't bad, though. She can tell that much. It's... very good.

But then, when Fred looks at the two closer, something else flickers in his gaze, and this she can place: recognition. "Teddy?" Fred asks, and Hermione feels her arms tighten in surprise as the toddler's face breaks into a smile.

"Uncle George!"

"Try again, Ted," Fred smiles good naturedly.

The two-year-old gasps. "Uncle Fred!"

"There we go," Fred says, as Teddy fights to get free from Hermione's grip, but Hermione just holds him tighter. "Slow down there, Ted, Hermione and I have got to hash stuff out real quick."

"What's-"

"-it means to work things out," Hermione guesses the question before Teddy can finish. The toddler relaxes against Hermione, question answered. The redhead and brunette stare at each other for a moment before Hermione whispers, "you knew Remus?"

"Nymphadora, actually." Fred's voice is just as somber. "And I know-"

"-Uncle Fred knows Daddy, Auntie!" Teddy says, oh-so matter-of-factly. "And he's Mommy's brother! So, can you let me go, now?"

And just like that, everything clicks into place.

"Oh." Hermione says.

She feels so stupid.

Fred's jaw drops, and, for the first time since she's met him, he looked genuinely speechless. Finally, he manages to draw out: "So. You're that Hermione."

Teddy is playing with some toys while Fred and Hermione drink coffee, the store mostly empty. Whatever people are in are only in for coffee, and Fred has his employees handling that right now; there are more important things for him to deal with at the moment. "God," Hermione shakes her head, "I've been so dumb." She scoffs, "I mean, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and I never asked questions? Hey, you don't by any chance know Ron Weasley, do you? We're best friends. Or," Hermione continues before Fred can get a word in, "My brother's engaged to a Ginny Weasley; you don't have a sister or relative named Ginny, do you?" She shakes her head. "So dumb."

Fred, to her surprise, laughs. "Calm down there, curly," he smiles softly at her, "if anything, I'm also to blame. I mean, Harry, Gin, and Ron talk about you all the time. Teddy over there blabs, too," he nods towards the little toddler, who has ditched a doll he had been playing with and is now knocking over some blocks. "I guess we're not as smart as we think, huh?"

Hermione feigns offense, "speak for yourself, Weasley."

"I'm wounded," Fred gasps dramatically, "so I'm Weasley, now, am I, curly?" He sticks his nose up in the air, "no coffee for you today."

She snorts, "I'll live."

A beat passes.

"... you were joking, right?" Hermione shyly asks him, and Fred sticks his tongue out at her, sliding out of his seat and picking up Teddy as he does so. The child shrieks in glee as Fred slings him over his shoulder, and as the child takes on Fred's unadulterated, joyous smile, Hermione hopes, not for the first time, that Teddy got his mother's talent for impressions.

The coffee comes for Hermione, along with a hot chocolate for Teddy, and, to Hermione's surprise, Fred sidles out from behind the counter with a cup of his own. "What are you doing today?" He asks her good-naturedly.

"Hangin' with Teddy," Hermione responds. "Taking him to the park, and then we're going to go home to make lunch before spending some time there."

"Auntie promised that we could watch Moana." Teddy tells Fred, a grin lighting up his face.

"Did she?" Fred raises a brow. "I love Moana." In a low tone, he asks Hermione, "can I tag along, curly?"

She's taken aback for two reasons: one, he's asked her in a quiet voice so Teddy won't here and get his hopes up, therefore giving Hermione complete control over the situation. The second reason is because she finds that she wants to spend time with him.

Hermione tilts her head.

"We'd like that," Hermione nods.

Fred beams.

you're really something special, curly.

The day passes and they get to know each other better. Time passes slowly with the three of them, and Hermione sends Harry plenty of photos. She sends him a selfie with the three of them, and Harry actually texts her back when he gets that one.

Harry
Are u with FRED?!

Hermione had snorted, and Fred had shamelessly read the text over her shoulder when she'd made no action to move away.

Hermione
No, it's George.

Harry
Lies, I know the twins when I see them
what are u doing with FRED?

Hermione
Remember that place I told you sells super good coffee? WWW?

Harry
Yeah? So?
... OH M Y GOSH I GET IT NOW

Hermione
There we go, brother of mine.

They're all back at her flat, Neville gone for the day, when Hermione sees her chance. Fred's coffee cup rests, half-finished (probably dreadfully cold by now, as well, but he insists on drinking it anyway), on her table. As she watches Fred and Teddy sing along to Moana, she feels for her sharpie, and, approaching his cup, she scribbles something on it as inconspicuously as possible. When she's done, she sets it down again and charges into the living room, meeting Teddy's screeches head on as they sing You're Welcome at an impossibly loud volume.

And, well.

The day's a good one.

(you're not bad company, fred. your eyes are breathtaking too, you know.)

Things are different after that. Teddy goes home to Harry. Hermione continues school. Neville and Hannah begin to date and Ginny and Harry begin to have practices for the wedding. Ron and Luna announce their engagement.

Things are different between her and Fred.

They hang out more outside of WWW, and, when she goes to pick up her coffee, their fingertips touch in a fashion that Hermione doesn't particularly mind.

So she's surprised, one day, when he doesn't give her a second glance.

He hands her the order she'd requested and she's confused to see that there's no note on it, no "curly" awaiting her in his neat scrawl. "Fred," Hermione begins, "are you feeling alright?"

Fred stops.

Raises his head to look at her.

Bursts into laughter.

"You must be Hermione!" The ginger man says, and Hermione blinks in recognition.

"You must be George," Hermione smiles in greeting.

"That I am, that I am," he waves, "I'm back in town; was out for a while, making sure our little brother -you know Ron, right? Best friends, from what I've heard- could run things on his own before I came back here. Fred's out for the day; he's sick. He told me you'd be in a little later than this, though. Sorry for the confusion."

She grins, "it's alright, not your fault. I hope he feels better, you know?"

"You can go visit him if you like," George shrugs, "we live right next door."

She pauses.

Then she says, "actually... yeah. That'd be great."

After her final class of the day, Hermione makes the trek to WWW, and upon arriving, turns to her right instead of entering the shop. To her right is a faded purple door, and next to it, a buzzer.

She has to press the button five times before a weak voice courses through the speaker: "who goes there?"

"Hermione."

A pause.

"I, I'm sorry," Fred says, "my death-ridden brain seems to have misplaced the name Hermione, beautiful as it sounds. Do you, pray tell, go by any other name?"

She sighs, praying for patience as she says, "Fred Weasley, open this door or you won't get any of the food I brought you, or my wonderful company."

There's a thump, before the speakers stop crackling. She hears something crashing down the stairs before Fred himself comes into sight, clad in only socks, boxers, and a faded jumper with a football logo plastered on it. She should be embarrassed, but Fred doesn't seem to care, and, really, she's grown up with Harry as well as spent years with Neville and Fred; nothing is exactly new to her. "Curly," Fred says, crashing to his knees and wrapping his arms around her legs, "love of my life and light of my existence, I am so glad you're here."

Hermione raises an eyebrow, feeling her skin warm from his dramatic antics. "Get up, Fred."

"Can't. 'm dying." He coughs, as if to prove his point.

She huffs, rolling her eyes when Fred staggers to his feet and begins his ascent to his flat, very dramatically grunting in pain with each step he takes. "I hate you," Hermione declares.

Fred turns his face towards her ever-so-slightly, "I don't hate you," he says, and she thinks that his tired eyes look honest in the dim light.

Hermione blames his words on the cold.

Two hours later, their bellies full of soup (made by Hermione herself, thank you) she finds herself in a... situation.

They'd been watching Pride & Prejudice (2005), which Fred had seen five times, and he'd been appalled to find that Hermione had only ever read the book. "Blasphemy!" He had proclaimed, before he'd taken to a coughing fit. The movie had begun to play on the screen and Hermione, entranced, hadn't noticed what Fred had been doing until too late; she felt the pressure on her legs and looked down to find a pillow on her lap and his his atop that, she finds him staring up at her with something in his green eyes that she can't quite place.

"What is it?" Hermione asks him, and he shakes his head.

"Nothing..." He clears his throat, "just, um, thank you. For taking care of me on my death bed."

"You're welcome," Hermione says. She rests her hand on the base of his ridiculously red hair and quietly takes in the contrast: her black fingers against his ginger head. His eyes flutter shut against the contact, and as she gently weaves her fingers through his hair, playing with it, she witnesses the calming nature that his facial features take on. Softly, when she thinks he's drifted off, she whispers, "and it's just a cold."

"Don't undermine my death, curly," Fred mumbles in response, but then he's asleep, and Hermione turns her attention back to the movie, watching as Charlotte tells Lizzie that she's to marry Mr Collins.

The end credits are rolling by the time Fred's eyes flutter open, Hermione's hand stilled on the base of his neck. "Why did you stop?" He asks by way of greeting, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Because I got tired."

"But I'm dying."

"Stop saying that." She reaches forward to check the time and finds that it's already seven thirty; her heart jumps in her throat. She hadn't realized how late it was.

As if on cue, the front door swings open and George waltzes in, dressed in his hideously purple suit. He eyes the two but doesn't comment, instead saying, "thanks for taking care of my baby brother, Hermione."

"I'm older than you," Fred objects.

"I didn't mean baby as in younger."

"Touche."

Fred swings himself off the couch, groaning and stumbling as he stands, gripping to Hermione for dear life and not-so-subtly sliding his hand into hers. She doesn't object, instead leaning into him as he leans against her, and together, they stumble towards the door. "You're welcome, George," she says, going back to the earlier thread of conversation, "I leave him in your trusted care."

"Kiss me goodbye, oh queen of intelligence and beauty, for this is the last time you'll ever see me." Fred takes the hand that had been entwined with his and kisses her knuckles.

"Why's that, then?" Hermione asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I've told you already," Fred says, pretending to be frustrated, "I'm dying. That, combined with the fact that George's trusted care isn't trusted, much less real care, my estimated time of death is... what's my time of death, George?" Fred turns to his brother.

"One a.m., tonight," George says without turning around.

Fred turns back to Hermione, "one a.m. tonight, curly." He takes her chin in his rough fingertips, "it has been a pleasure knowing you, goddess."

Hermione laughs, bringing her hands up to either side of his face and looking deep into his eyes. With feeling, she says, "here's to lookin' at you, kid." The gaze they share is intense, and when Hermione pulls away and opens the door, it's as if they're under a spell.

Then, Fred coughs loudly and ferociously, and the spell is broken. "Escape, escape!" George commands, bringing his tie up to cover his nose, "before the monster passes on this wretched plague to you as well!"

Between coughs, Fred cries out, "don't forget me, darling!"

"Escape!" George shrieks.

"Don't forget me!"

Hermione salutes the both of them, before dashing down the staircase. When she moves to open the front door, she finds Fred leaning against the doorframe, smiling softly at her. He waves quietly.

She waves back, and then disappears.

"My brother likes you," Ginny says one day, seemingly out of the blue.

Hermione, nose stuck in a book, says, "which one?"

"Don't play that game," Ginny shakes her head, "Fred, obviously. He talks about you all the time, and he gets The Look when he lays eyes on you."

Hermione thinks back to the cups full of messages, to days spent talking over coffee, playing with Teddy, and watching movies on his couch. She thinks back and finds that she can't completely deny Ginny's statement.

So, she says, "I know."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Hermione pauses. She hadn't exactly thought of that. Checking the time, she finds that if she leaves now, she'll make it to WWW just before closing time.

She stands, stretching, letting Ginny watch her as she makes her way to the door.

"I think, Gin," Hermione says as she grabs her coat, "that I'm going to go get some coffee."

As the door closes behind her, Ginny smiles.

"Sorry, mate, but we're-" George's voice floats from the cash register, stopping when he sees Hermione. "Oh. Hi, Hermione. How goes it?"

She smiles at him, "is Fred around?"

"Upstairs," George motions towards where the coffee shop is situated. "I'm about done here; tell him to lock up when he's headed out." He bows deeply to her before making his exit, and she quietly climbs the stairs, watching him sweep as she steps onto the landing. He's singing, and she doesn't know what he's singing, but she does know she enjoys his voice.

"I don't usually sing with an audience around," Fred says without turning to face her, "unless it's for comedic purposes."

"You've got a nice voice," Hermione responds, stepping towards him. Fred lays the broom against a wall and turns around to face her. His tie is undone and his shirt is halfway unbuttoned. Her feet pad loudly against the tile and Fred opens his mouth to warn her about something before that something happens, but it's too late - she slips, finding the floor to be wet, and begins to fall forward. Fred meets her halfway, stumbling back, both tumbling to the floor.

When she opens her eyes, she finds that they're very close to each other. She could count his eyelashes.

"Hello," Fred says.

"Hello," says Hermione.

Their eyes meet, green against brown, and something passes between them.

Trying not to think too much, Hermione sweeps down and kisses Fred fiercely.

Nothing happens at first, and she moves to pull away, disheartened; maybe she and Ginny were wrong. But then he responds (quite enthusiastically, she might add) and her fingers weave themselves through his hair. They only pull apart when they both start laughing. Hermione rolls over and lies next to him, their laughter ringing in the air. When it's died down and Fred's grasped Hermione's hand, she says, "Fred?"

"Yes, love?" Fred asks, kissing her fingers chastely.

"George wanted me to tell you to lock up when you're headed out."

Fred laughs. He leans over to kiss her again. In-between quick kisses, he says, "darling, George will have to wait; I'm in no hurry to leave."

A month later, Hermione is looking at the merchandise with Harry, Teddy in his arms. Ginny's off with George and no one knows where Fred is. Hermione grins at Harry and says to him, "this really is an extraordinary place, you know. With fantastic coffee."

"For that, Hermione," a voice says behind them, and, turning, they see Fred holding out a coffees to her, "you can have one for free." He steps up to her and kisses her in greeting, and next to her, Hermione can hear Harry's gagging. When they pull away, Harry interjects.

"Do Ted and I get free coffees too?"

Fred considers this. "Ted hates coffee," he says, "and you are decidedly less pretty than Hermione-"

"-I take offense to that-"

"-but I suppose we could work something out, most esteemed patron," Fred winks at the lot of them, and he takes Hermione's hand in his, leading them all upstairs as the rest of the group (Neville, Luna, Ron, Ginny, and George) join them. As the group jokes and laughs with each other, Hermione kisses Fred's knuckles. He turns to her, interest piqued, "what is it, darling?"

She shakes her head. "I'm just..." Hermione takes a breath. "I'm just glad I decided to breeze into this joke shop in my search of good coffee, is all."

Fred hums.

"Me too, my love. Me too."

Reviews are very much appreciated! I think I'll be writing more stories that are set in this little 'verse.