Throughout their years at Hogwarts, Fred and Hermione maintained a friendship. Albeit a quiet one. A few days after the train meeting, Fred began to date Angelina Johnson, and he and Hermione talked less and less. Of course, everytime they passed in the hall they would make small talk, Fred would be quick to defend her if anyone had an unkind word, but they had a completely platonic sometimes-friendship that both of them were satisfied with. She had become good friends with his younger prat of a brother, and his mum had quickly decided they would one day be married.

And that was that.

Fred had dropped his fascination with her quickly, until the war ended, and finally he got to look at her again. She was lovely, intelligent, and brave. And dating Ron.

And so, Fred had once again pushed his attraction to the back of his mind, knowing that if Hermione liked his brother (though he wasn't quite sure how that was possible), he would not be the one to get in the way of that.

At twenty seven years of age, Fred Weasley was proud to announce (to anyone willing to sit around and listen, mind you) that for the third consecutive year, he had taken the title of England's Most Eligible Bachelor (Wizard Edition).

He enjoyed everything about the title, from all that it implied about his appearance, to the photo shoots and non-stop pile of fan mail from lovely ladies promising to rid him of his title.

Fred was rather used to being desired by now. What he wasn't used to, was the feeling of being catapulted back in time, to his thirteen year old self, with sweaty palms, crummy jokes, and a familiar, but long locked away, fluttering in his gut.

In other words, it had been quite some time since any woman, witch or muggle, had made him feel nervous.

Hermione-Bloody-Granger was of course threatening that, he noted, as the aforementioned witch strode into the restaurant he was currently at.

"Fred? Freddie, love? Yes or no?" chirped the annoying voice of Fred's latest fling. Amber was looking at him with excited eyes, offering in her hand a key to her flat. He snapped his attention back to her.

"Amber, listen, we've only been out a handful of times…I'm not moving in with you."

The girls face fell quickly. "Fred, you're not exactly getting younger here. Don't you think it's time to settle down a bit?" her forced-calm voice was even more irritating than usual, making Fred roll his eyes, catching a brief glance at Hermione sitting at the bar, in the process.

"I think that when I meet the right girl, I will have no problem settling down." He realized his tone was a bit more harsh than he had intended, and he saw her eyes turn dangerously black.

"Well, Fred, you've test driven nearly every girl in England. Perhaps there isn't a "right girl" for you." She said icily, grabbing her bag and leaving without another word.

Fred shrugged his shoulders, putting some money on the table and stretching, before getting up and walking over to the bar.

"Well if it isn't the smartest witch of our time." He said happily into Hermione's ear.

She jumped, then relaxed once she recognized his voice.

"I'm not just smart, remember Mr. Most Eligible?" she shot back, grinning at him.

His stomach did flip flops.

He ignored it.

"How in the heck have you been?!" he asked her, slipping into the empty seat next to her.

Hermione and Ron had broken up nearly five years ago after a destructive six month relationship. The two were on good terms still, they simply found a relationship was not for them. She had moved to Australia a year after the break up to be with her parents.

As a war hero, the Daily Prophet often did stories on her. Her whereabouts were gossiped over, and her relationships, rumored and real, would regularly make the front page. And while he read every article about her, he had lost touch with the family friend. After four years of no direct contact, it was nice to see her again.

"I've been good! I'm back in England, hopefully to stay, I'm getting lots of job offers, none of which seem the least bit appealing, apparently I'm seeing both Dean Thomas AND your brother Charlie, according to the Prophet. You know, the usual." She took a sip of her tea and glanced over at him.

"How are you? I can't believe it's been four years since we've had an actual conversation." She asked softly.

"I'm not bad! The shop has been incredibly popular, we've opened a couple other branches and extended our mail order catalogs to other magic schools. How long have you been back? Did you see Mum or Ginny yet?"

"I just got in this morning! And I'm actually waiting on your lovely sister now." She replied with a smile.

"Well listen, I've got to get back to the shop, but why don't we get dinner tonight to catch up? Meet me at the shop at 7?" he asked, smiling at her sweetly, the smile that won over all of the girls he'd ever been with, and waited for her to reply.

"Sure, that sounds lovely." She agreed, rolling her eyes at his smirk, but smiling back at him anyway.

"So, how was lunch with Amber?" asked Katie Bell-Weasley, George's wife of two years, as Fred walked into the shop.

"It was alright. Until she asked me to move in with her and told me I was getting old." He replied.

"So let me guess…you broke up with her." George stated.

"Well of course I broke up with her, she was bloody mental. We've gone out three times."

"Okay, Peter Pan." Katie said, clucking her tongue disapprovingly as she went back to straightening the shelves.

"Who the bloody hell is Peter Pan?" he asked, looking first at Katie, then at is twin.

"It's an old muggle fairytale, about a boy who didn't want to grow up." Katie answered before walking into the back room.

"I know your fond of that witch, Georgie, but I'm not exactly liking her today." Fred said, throwing an empty box of trick wands at George's head.

"Yeah, yeah. You know she's just looking out for you, mate. Twenty seven down seem like a good age to find the right gal and settle down, doesn't it?"

Fred knew George was concerned. That he only wanted him to be as happy as all of the other (married) Weasley's.

But all Fred wanted to do was have a little bit of fun.

And have dinner with that pretty little witch from his past.