Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JKR. The plot belongs to me.
FIVE KISSESOne kiss. That was all he needed. One kiss would finally make him realize there were no sparks, that she really did belong with Ron.
He was on the floor of his dorm room, propped up against his bed. A book was resting on his thighs, right before his knees, supported by his hands, but he wasn't paying attention. Not to the book, anyway.
Why was she invading his mind so much? It had only begun at the beginning of the school year without any warning whatsoever. She was more beautiful than any boy had ever seemed to taken her for, except maybe Krum. Sometimes you have to dig to see past the bushy hair and brainiac aura.
He sighed, placing the book next to him, his forearms on his bent knees, and his head in his hands. If he ever admitted he was smitten with the girl one year younger than he, but seemed far more mature, if Ron ever found out, if Lee and George ever discovered, if she ever knew…he wouldn't exist anymore. He would either disappear from humiliation or would be digging his own grave. Ron would positively murder him.
He pushed against the carpet, leaning forward, rising off the ground. He needed to take a walk.
He had no control of his feet. They guided him where they wanted to go, his body complying as his head became stuck in the clouds. And, for some reason, they had led him to the library doors.
He hesitated. He had not been to the library often; he in fact avoided it at all costs, only in the case of extremities. He was sure that Madame Pince had heard of his reputation, and he wasn't sure how well he'd be trusted. He inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly as he gripped the door's handles. He stepped inside to be immediately flocked by the librarian.
"And what is your business here, Mr. Weasley? I should have you know that I do not tolerate pranks of any kind."
"You know, Madame Pince, I'm not quite sure why I'm here, but rest assured that I would never pull pranks without my dear brother George," he said sweetly, much unlike his normal form, laying on the Weasley charm he had learned to control when he had become a prankster.
The rather bird-like woman pursed her lips, surveying him. "Very well," she spoke after a short while. "But remember that I shall be watching you."
Fred smiled. "Yes, ma'am." He then let his feet guide him to a rather hidden section he had found the previous time he had arrived at the library. It was, by far, his favorite.
His fingers skimmed ove rthe spines of the many books on pranking, his eyes following, reading every book title that passed. Pranking 101, for amateurs, How Not to Get Caught, I've seen much better, and Muggle Pranks and Why Ours are Better. He had tried some of these, and they were actually pretty sound.
Finally his knuckles skipped over a void in the constant of hardback books. In truth there was a stack of parchment stuck together and wedged between the books. He pried the stack away from the offending books, a smirk arising on his perfect lips. You'd Better Not Ask to Check This Out, by Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs was written across the first piece of parchment. He had stumbled across this when he had first found this section, and hadn't left the library until he had finished. It was the only book he had ever read in one sitting. Ever.
He grabbed the edge of the bookcase, swinging around to the other side as he searched for a table. Reading things twice never hurt anyone. Just ask the girl sitting at the table mere feet away from him. Her bushy hair surrounded her facial structures as she leaned closer to the book she must be reading for the tenth time.
He leaned against the bookcase, ready to move at any time if she were to look up. She didn't, however, and pretty soon his muscles had become relaxed. It was at the exact moment that his guards and reflexes turned off completely that she glanced away from Hogwarts, a History to stretch.
"Fred?" Her question dragged him down from Cloud Nine. He realized that he had been staring at her this whole time.
Dullened cyan connected with honey covered chocolate. There was an electrifying silence.
"Erm, what are you doing here?" she finally questioned, breaking through the deafening quiet.
"You know, I don't really know," he replied cooly, composing himself. He couldn't let his mask fall apart in front of, of all people, Hermione Granger. "Somehow I just wound up here, and I decided to read one of my favorite books."
"You have a favorite book? I didn't know you read that much."
"Dearest Hermione, even a prankster has to read something. You mustn't jump to conclusions."
"Oh," she replied, her face becoming a mask of nervous shame. "You're right, I shouldn't have, I'm –" She stopped as he set his book directly in front of her, her eyes darting from left to right as she skimmed over the cover. "Figures," she muttered, leaning back in her chair. "Where'd you find that, anyway?"
"Over there," he pointed as he slid into the seat next to her. "They have a whole shelf of prank books, but this one is by far the best."
"Can you actually call this a book?" She picked up the tied-together parchment, opening it to the first page. "Typical Sirius," she muttered to herself, but Fred heard it nonetheless.
"What? Sirius? What do you mean?" He unconsciously put a hand on the back of her chair, steadying himself as he leaned in to look over her shoulder.
"See that?" She pointed to the first line of the page. And by that we mean don't ask the librarian to check it out. "That's Sirius' handwriting. It's something that he would definitely say."
"So you're saying Sirius Black…is a Marauder?"
"And Professor Lupin, and Harry's dad. Didn't he tell you that?" His eyes widened as he shook his head.
"I believe he failed to mention that."
"Hmm. Well, now you know." She turned back to her book, placing his on the table. He reached for it, but when leaning back a beautiful scent surrounded him, filled his head, cleared his mind. He couldn't describe it, but he could have sworn he'd smelled it before. He wondered how he just noticed the aroma; it felt as if it had been there all along, waiting for the perfect chance to poke and prod its way into his senses. Another whiff told him that it was coming from his right, from Hermione.
He leaned back in his chair, perching the book on the edge of the table. How do you tell a girl who is not your best friend nor available to flirt with that she smells nice? He supposed he could just tell her, but then she might take it the wrong way, or, in this case, exactly the way he was tell her but didn't want her to know.
"Fred? You okay?" He had been staring at her again. Some progress you've made, still can't stop daydreaming even when she's around.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You know what, I think I'm just gonna go, okay, so bye," he said hurriedly. He had to get out of there, fast. He stood, grabbing his book, nearly knocked his chair over, and practically flew out of the library.
You idiot, Fred, you sounded like a bloody chicken.
"What are you reading?" His question, too loud, too sudden, caused her to react, falling out of her seat, the book flying out of her hand. On instinct he rushed to help her.
"Next year's potions book," she replied, her breathing slowing as she composed herself. Her small hand extended towards the textbook that was still in his hands. He graciously handed it back to her, their hands brushing when her fingers wrapped around the book, right over his.
"I found it on the table over there, I thought it might be a good idea to get a head start." Typical.
"Do you ever relax at all?" He shifted in his seat, not once taking his eyes off of her.
"Sometimes. When I feel like I need to."
"When you feel like you need to isn't quite as often as Medi-Witches recommend."
She sighed, opening the book, turning away from him. He rolled his eyes, beginning to push himself up from the chair, but something caught his eye. He leaned closer to Hermione, once again smelling the unexplainable scent.
Amortentia. The word formed on his lips as he suddenly remembered where he had smelled Hermione's scent before. Memories flooded to him as he remembered the previous year, one of his Potions classes. He had smelled this scent, smoke, and, ironically, parchment.
"Why are you reading about Amortentia? Surely you're not thinking of making it for dear old Ronniekins." He barely bit back bitterness that had been attached to the last of his comment.
"Of course not," she spat back. "I'm not that stupid. I don't even like Ron."
"Sure you don't," he began to coax out of her, hating himself for doing so. It was all part of his mask.
"You know, Fred, sometimes you just need to stay out of people's business and talk about things you actually have an inkling of a clue about!" She rose from the couch as she yelled, away from his reaching distance, not stomping, but having an air of anger as she walked to her dormitory, placing the book on a table while she passed. He watched her retreating form finally disappear from his line of sight and felt a pulling, a longing to have it back.
Ever since Harry had shown him this miraculous room, the one that would form itself into what you truly needed, he had used it as an outlet, a place to find his own peace. No one would guess that he needed time away from his own twin brother, his other half, his partner in crime, but it was true. And this is where he came.
Not many items were placed in the room currently. A couch, which he was resting on, a fireplace, aflame, and a table with his journal and favorite quill placed in it. The room was small, bland, with a single window to show the outdoors. The sunset reigned over the horizon as he stared into the flames, of which the flipping motions and crackling had created their own style of dance, which none other could ever capture.
"I forgive you, if it helps."
The voice broke through his beloved close quiet, but it was not a damned one. Instead, a sweet melody, a song to his ears, one that could create harmony with his own. He turned to the owner of this voice, already knowing who it was. She had invaded his dreams too much for him not to.
"Forgive me for what?"
"For teasing me about Ron. You may not have apologized, but I still forgive you." She moved closer as she spoke. Her nervousness pulsated through the air, sending signals, warnings, to him, warnings not to mess with her, not now. Why was she nervous?
"Oh…but that was a week ago."
"I could never get you alone. It's not like I could just go up to you and say this in front of Harry and Ron. They would get suspicious of something that doesn't exist." A relationship between the two. Oh, how he longed for it to really exist.
"True. And I guess I'd better say I'm sorry now while I have the chance. I really shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about you liking Ron." The nervousness was gone, replaced with confidence.
"That's right, you shouldn't have. And thank you." They stayed in an awkward silence, neither knowing what to do next. To leave would seem rather abrupt, and so she stayed without anything to do. Finally he moved to the other side of the couch, making room for the girl of his secret affections. She accepted the inclination gratefully.
"So, sorry to barge in, but what is going on between the two of you?" he asked, turning to Hermione. "I mean, everyone seems to see something there."
"Well, whatever they see isn't true. I don't have a crush on him, but I'm almost positive he has one on me. He's always mad at me for wanting to write to Viktor, my friend."
So she didn't have a crush on Ron. Maybe he still had a chance…but no. His younger brother liked her as much as Fred loved her. Ron would hate him. Not that he cared what Ron thought, but he was certain something bad would happen.
"So who do you like?" He inwardly winced. He was going to find someone else to hate, someone else he was going to have to restrain himself from ripping to pieces, limb from limb. That is, if she even answered.
"Umm…I can't really say."
"Come on, I'm not going to tell anybody."
"I-I really don't feel comfortable. Nobody else knows, and I'm not sure I want to tell you first, of all people."
Him, of all people? What did this mean, that she didn't trust him? Sure, he had given the teachers, Slytherins, and anyone he'd pranked reason not to trust him, but it seemed like he'd always gone out of his way to stop his brother from pulling one over Hermione. He wasn't a gossip; what had he done wrong?
"But wha-"
"Fred, I really should be going," she cut him off, standing quickly and racing herself to the door. He never took his eyes off of her. Her hand rested on the doorknob, hesitating, seemingly not wanting to leave. She turned to the wild redhead, her mouth open, words on her lips, her tongue curling to begin to speak. But nothing ever came. She shook her head, denying whatever was ready to come out. She opened the door, startling light into the small and somewhat dark room. Fred blinked, his adjusting to the light, bright only for the two, and when he could see again he saw there was nothing there.
Fred sank down onto the steps. One mistake, in which it seemed he had no control, reacting in a way that everyone believed and knew was deserved, and he was banned from Quidditch for life. Or at least until the frog was gone. How could he have been so stupid as to react to something Malfoy said? He insulted Mum, he reasoned.
His elbows rested on his knees, his head in his hands. He couldn't count the times he'd been in that position from the beginning of the year. It seemed to be his best thinking position. And mostly when he was thinking, it was about –
"Harry told me what happened," a soft voiced wafted down to him, a warm body sliding next to him. He didn't need to look up; he would know that voice anywhere. "Are you okay?"
"I just got kicked off the Quidditch team by the most horrible person on the face of the planet. Sure, Hermione, I feel just peachy."
"Well you don't have to be rude, I was just trying to help! It's just Quidditch, anyway. Now maybe you can focus on actually passing your N.E.W.T.s!"
He looked at her for the first time since she sat with him. She couldn't be serious.
"And just what makes you think I'm going to give up that easily? Quidditch is obviously more important to me than you think."
"You're right, I should have known." She sat back, staring into space, into nothing, still alert. "But still –"
"Hermione, you really shouldn't be telling me this. You just don't understand Quidditch. And, frankly, I don't want to be talking to you, of all people about this. You just…don't get it." He looked away in exasperation, wishing, hoping, that the girl next to him, no matter how beautiful, how sweet she was, no matter how much he loved her, would go and leave him to mope for now. He completely missed her mouth the exact words the two had both said, the lightning excitement as her face brightened, realization dawning that neither had ever noticed what the other was thinking about constantly. Until now.
"Fred?" she asked timidly.
"What?" he snapped as he as he turned to her in a sour manner. "Why wo-"
He was in heaven, he could swear. He was floating on a cloud, with an angel guiding him, making sure he didn't fall. That angel's name was Hermione Jane Granger, and he and that angel were definitely sharing a kiss.
He had no clue why she had just kissed him, nor did he care. All he knew was that he never wanted it to stop. He wrapped his arms around his angel, his rose, his star, his light, the girl he wanted so badly to be his. They had moved in such a position that he was pushed back against the stairs and she was pulled flush against him. He thought he must be the luckiest person in the world, getting to kiss the Hermione Granger. He had to be.
She pulled away, her breath supply spent. Her hair had become even messier, her clothes wrinkled, her face flushed, her eyes shining with a brightness he had never seen. And to him she looked like a goddess.
"Yeah, I think I just might get over that whole Quidditch deal," he breathed heavily. She laughed, something that had to be one of his favorite sounds. She pulled herself off of him, both instantly regretting it, the cool air bringing goose bumps to their exposed skin.
"You should. She can't ban you for after Hogwarts."
"She has my broom."
"You have your joke shop business, and, as much as I hate to admit it, it will probably do fantastic."
"Oh really?" he teased as he moved closer to Hermione. He wiggled his eyebrows, causing her to cover her mouth with a dainty hand, an attempt to hide her laugh- and her blush. Fred had a yanking urgency to kiss her again. He pulled her hand away from her giggling face, leaning in to fulfill his wish. To his surprise, she pulled away, smiling no more.
"Fred, um, as much as I've always wanted that, I think we need to talk." His brow creased. They hadn't even started going out, and she was using a breakup line on him?
"About what happens next."
"What happens next? You kissed me, we figured out we had secret crushes on each other and we were complete idiots all this time, and I ask you to be my girlfriend, that's what happens next. Why do we need to talk about it?"
"Ron. He's going to hate me."
"Hermione, if Ron's really your friend he'd let you date whoever you wanted." He wasn't about to lose her now.
"I know, but you saw how that worked out with Viktor," she reminded him. He had. "And even if he should accept that I'll date people besides him, it's horribly rotten fighting with Ron. He goes out of his way just to make me mad; I don't care what he does or who he does it with, it's just the simple fact that he's trying to hurt me." He was finally beginning to realize at least some of what exactly went on in Hermione and Ron's relationship. He placed a hand on her shoulder, then without warning, pulled her to him, embracing her tightly, wanting fiercely, painfully, to never let her go. But he had to. He pulled away slowly, reluctantly, knowing he was making a difficult decision. He stood.
"I'll let you think." He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, then walked away, praying that she would make the decision he knew he wanted her to make.
He saw her on the dock, simply standing, swaying, head bent as if she were reading a book. Maybe she was.
He moved closer. It would be too easy. All he needed was a distraction…
Ever so quietly, with the swiftness of a true prankster, he moved directly behind her. When she still didn't notice his presence, he wrapped his arms around her, his hands making their way towards the book. He pulled it from her grasp, over her head, behind his back.
"Fred!" she exclaimed as she desperately reached for her precious tome.
"Hermione!" he mimicked playfully, keeping the book just centimeters from her reach. One of her arms was wrapped around his waist, holding him in one spot, the other also pressed against him, but extended as to grab her book, if she ever could. Her closeness to him only caused him to widen his smirk.
"Give me my book. Now." Her eyes blazed with a new anger, but it wasn't the kind you'd see when she was around Malfoy. It was the kind of anger that you had with friends, the one that you knew they were joking around anyway.
"A bit possessive, aren't we?"
"Yes, yes we are. Now give it back!" Her attempts to grab the book ceased. She looked up at him through sad eyes, her lower lip extending from its normal length.
"Oh, no, that's not going to work on me."
Her long lashes fluttered up and down as she batted her eyes. He groaned.
"Ugh, you won me over." He brought his arm around, holding the book directly in front of her face. She pulled it from his grasp, smiling, opening the book to where she'd left off, and, much to his dismay, turned away, moving to the edge of the dock. He frowned.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering when she would turn around, acknowledging his not-lost presence. He tired of waiting soon, eventually moving behind her once more. This time, instead of yanking the book, he eased it away, giving her plenty of warning that it was still him on the dock, her only companion at the time except for maybe the book. It was small, paperback, Muggle. Easily tossed onto the ground without harm. She refused to look at him as he did so, instead leaning into him, his arms encircling her. Getting closer…
"What do you want, Fred?" she questioned softly, looking out over the lake's waves.
"Mmm, I think you know the answer to that," he muttered into her hair. "Have you thought about it?" She very well knew what it was.
"Yes. I still haven't decided."
He rested his chin on her shoulder. "I think I might be able to change your mind."
"Oh? How-" she gasped. His lips were now pressed to her neck. It sent shivers through her spine, as well as his. He moved his way to her chin, his breathing increasing. He hadn't expected to get this feeling while doing this, not these electrifying shocks and shivers. Looks like he was getting two prizes today.
"Fred?"
"Hmm?"
"I…I can't…can't concen- ehh," she moaned as his hands slipped under her rather flimsy white tee. They caressed the sensitive spots on her stomach. He knew he was going fast, but he had been waiting too, too long for this. She wasn't resisting; he took it as a good sign, knowing full well that no matter how much he didn't want to, he would stop if she protested.
His fingers found themselves at the edge of the oh-so-thin blouse. He pulled it up, over her head. He saw the possible reason as to why he had been able to come this far.
Hermione was now facing him, clad in khaki cargo pants and a white bikini top. Fred suspected she had been on the wise side, wearing a complete swimsuit. It was a beautiful day, after all.
She was kissing him full on the lips, much like she had that revelational day on the stairs. His arms remained in place, fastened around her hips. Hers, however, were struggling to pull off his own shirt. They broke the kiss for as little time as possible. So soon as the offending object was tossed aside, near her top and book, their lips reconnected in haste. Fred knew he didn't want to lose this, not now, not ever. But his original plan came to mind.
Closer and closer, he eased her to the edge of the dock. It wasn't far.
"Hermione, can I tell you something?" He pulled away from the beautiful exchange, staring straight into her Honeyduke's milk chocolate colored eyes.
"Yes?" There was brightness in her eyes.
"I…" Her eyes shone. "I…" He broke off to create suspense. She continued to look up at him anxiously, a smile forming on her face…
The water was too cold, even for spring. He hadn't expected to be dragged along with Hermione as he pushed her over the edge. On instinct, however, she had grabbed his arms as gravity won over, causing him to topple under the water along with her.
It wasn't long before they surfaced together, untangling themselves in order to push up for air.
"What the heck was that for?" Hermione screamed at him, panting as she treaded on the water. Fred couldn't stop laughing, even though he had fallen in the water, too.
"I – couldn't resist," he managed to get out between fits. Suddenly he had the taste of salt water in his mouth. It had been sprayed all over his face.
"You deserved it."
"Yeah, I guess I did." They floated in silence.
SPLASH
"FRED!"
The water war continued. Back and forth, water going everywhere, until Hermione gave in, lunging over to Fred and dunking him under.
He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her under, countering her stunt. When they were level he pulled her into their third shared kiss. He was glad that she fully allowed him to do so.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing them closer, deepening the kiss. The water surrounding them made it feel as though they were walking on air. It swirled around them, pressing them together, but the need to actually survive was too great. The surface was near.
Water drops fell from her cheeks, her hair, anything that had come up. She panted from lack of breath, not finding anything to say.
"So? Am I right?"
"About?"
"Changing your mind."
She sent a smirk his way, lithely swimming to the edge of the lake, hoisting herself out of the water. Fred got a rather nice eyeful of her glistening, wet stomach.
"We'll see." She grabbed her shirt and book and traipsed up the steep hill to the castle. It wasn't long before the shirt was once again on her torso, growing wet from the droplets of water clinging to her skin.
If anyone – Ron, Harry, whoever – had seen her as Fred just had, they'd describe her as "hot" or "sexy." To Fred, Hermione was definitely both of those things, but that wasn't how he would describe her.
"Beautiful."
She was protesting in hisses, not wanting to draw attention, but definitely threatening to hex his arse if he didn't tell her where they were going. (He had never heard her swear before.) He was simply keeping a steady grip on her elbow, leading her, not dragging her. He didn't want to draw attention either.
"Frederick Weasley, I swear, if you don't tell me where we are going, so help me –"
He pushed guided her into the destination. They had finally arrived.
"Ow! Fred, what-" Hermione tripped over a bucket as they tried to fit together in the miniscule broom closet.
"I need to know now." Fred spoke in all seriousness. He could see her confusion through her eyes, hoping she could see all the need in his.
"Right now? But why?" Her eyes widened, her eyebrows raised.
"George and I- we've decided to leave school. No, just listen," he placed his hand over her mouth as she began to protest. "We don't need to be here. We looked through our books, and there's nothing else we need to learn or can't learn on our own. Starting our business before school is out will help us more than staying here. We've studied the subjects we need. And Umbridge is slowly tearing apart the Hogwarts we know. We jut have to do this. So tell me- do you want to be my girlfriend or not?"
Hermione was still standing in shock, trying to process the information he had thrown at her. Finally she shook her head, clearing her thoughts, her bushy hair flying everywhere.
"You're leaving school? Fred, you don't' know that something they might teach out of the books may be crucial! I think you're –"
"Then I'll just have to live with my mistakes. I'm leaving, no matter what anybody says. Now I need to know whether you want to be with me or not."
"If I said yes would it change your mind?"
"No."
"I won't go with you."
"I'm not expecting you to."
"Are you sure you're going to do this?"
"Yes."
"No."
His breath caught in his throat, his heart clenched, his emotions overflowed, even though he had completely expected it. He only let the slightest show of hurt seep onto his body, overpowered by understanding.
"I just can't be with someone I won't see until the summer. It just won't be –"
"Okay. I get it. But promise me one thing."
This girl, the girl he had loved since the beginning of the year, the one who had actually reciprocated his feelings, the one he was actually letting go, continued to stare up at him, nearly a head away. Her eyes, he could read them. They wondered how he was being so understanding.
"What?"
"That you won't fall for Ron when I'm not here. You deserve better than him. I know that sounds horrible, coming from his own brother, but still. He shouldn't try to make you feel bad when you're standing up for yourself, nor should he try to make you feel jealous just to hurt you. You know this." His hands were resting on her upper arms unnecessarily, as she was already looking deep into his eyes. He noticed that her own eyes had begun to fill up with tears. "Promise?"
"I promise." The tears started to fall for reasons he didn't know. It would be nearly impossible for the two to never see each other again. He brushed them away with the tip of his thumb. He leaned in for a last kiss. It was gentle, soft, sweet, much unlike the other three they had shared. This one was definitely filled with more kindness, compassion…with more love.
He pulled away, releasing her completely.
"I'll miss you."
That night he had actually done it. He and his brother left Hogwarts for good, becoming legends. At least for a while. But the only thing he could think of was the look on Hermione's face as he flew over the crowd, out the window.
"Fred, man, you okay?" George became parallel to him as they flew over Scotland. Once a twin, forever a twin, you're never going to lose it. Fred knew that George knew that something was bothering him.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Fred said in monotone, staring straight ahead, anywhere except to the eyes boring into him.
"It's Hermione, isn't it?" They rarely kept secrets from each other, but this was one of those times they did.
"How did you know?" It was time to stop denying.
"I've known since last year. You just didn't find out till this year."
"Last year?"
"Ever since you saw her at the Yule Ball."
Fred pondered this as they continued to fly. Had he really liked her since last year? He knew he thought she looked pretty in her robes…but had he liked her? He remembered getting this…feeling…when she was dancing with Krum…oh, Merlin, he had liked her.
"You know you gotta keep going after her."
He knew.
"She said she wouldn't date me."
"Did she say she likes you?"
"Yes."
"So don't stop trying. You're never gonna win if you pull yourself out."
"We're two years apart."
"That didn't' stop you. Look," George said as he drove his broom right in front of Fred's, causing him to stop, "if you don't keep going after her, you're gonna lose her. Most likely to Ron."
"Not to Ron."
"Oh?"
"She promised not to go to him."
"Okay. So now I'm going to make you promise me that you won't stop going after her." George hovered with patience. When Fred wouldn't look up, answer anything, he shook his head in disappointment before continuing his flight.
Now his brother and anyone and anything in the world was out of earshot. He whispered two words before following.
"I promise."
One kiss had not been enough, nor would it ever be enough. He knew it the first time he kissed her. He knew it the second time. He knew it the third, the fourth. He knew it when she made her only promise to him. And he knew it now, leaning over the counter, gazing out the window. The shutters open wide. Once again, the sufferable know-it-all was sitting outside, book in hand, containing her full concentration, next to his favorite tree with just enough room for someone to sit between her and the tree. Like him.
"Bookworm. Predictable," he jokingly called. In what seemed like seconds he had glided to a mere couple of yards away from Hermione.
"Prankster. Half and half," she replied without looking up."
"How so?" He began to move behind her.
"I figured you'd come to see me. And that you'd be inching behind me like you are now. That you'll sit behind me, wanting to sweep me off my feet, even though I already said no." Still she didn't look up.
He did exactly as she said, pulling her close to him with his arms. She groaned, seemingly tired of being in the same position over and over. He saw straight past her façade.
"Stop it, you know you like it."
"Yes I do, and that's why I'm groaning."
"Mmm…sexy," he whispered in her ear.
"No, Fred. You don't get it." She turned to face him, breaking free from his arms. "I just can't deal with a relationship now. Not with you, not with Ron, not with anyone. There is a war going on and I am not one to close my mind to the fact that people I love will die. I don't want to get hurt because my boyfriend died, and frankly, I don't want anyone to get hurt because I died. That's why I said no."
Fred gawked. He had been turned down because of a flipping war? The information he had just been given began to process in his brain.
He was finished. "Hermione, people are going to die. People you love are going to die. It's a part of life. But say I die without us doing anything at all. You'd probably be going through life with what ifs, and I wouldn't want that. Yes, this is a war, so you have to take what you can get before it's gone."
Hermione sat in front of him, mouth slightly open, listening as his views contradicted hers. "Wow…I-I never thought of it that way."
Without saying, nudging, any kind of warning, she kissed him for the fifth time, pushing him back against the tree, wrapping her arms around him. He responded immediately, feeling incredible sparks. His insides were jumping for joy; did this mean she chose him?
She pulled away, and he was reminded suddenly of the first kiss they had ever shared, the one that had begun everything.
She was still laying on top of him, against him. He swiftly pulled her around as they were sitting only minutes ago.
At this moment Fred didn't know what would come in the next year. He didn't know what would come of the war. He didn't know what would come of the relationship. All he knew was that Hermione Granger was his, if only for a moment. And that was okay with him.
A/N: O.O. That is the longest thing I've ever written. Ever. Don't count Banned Love, that was split into chapters. I think I might be glad this is a oneshot.
So, what do you guys think? I'm a big Hermione/Fred shipper, but then, Hermione is easy for me to ship with just about everyone. 'Cept Harry. Or Ron (ewww!). Do you like my style? I was thinking about writing another HG/FW, based off of the Last Five Years. Feedback and reviews, pweeze! Thank you and goodnight! (Or morning, or afternoon…maybe lunchtime…)