Runner

Rating: K+
Word Count: 1755
Summary: Hermione is done caring what others think. The only person's opinion that matters is his.
Authors Note: "Song and Dance" prompt by Jillie Bean on the HPFC forum: Choose a favorite album and write a fic around it. One chapter for each song on the album. At least one chapter must include a dance.

7/19/11 – ATTENTION! I know it's been two years since I've updated this, I am so, so sorry, and because of that I've decided to go through and rewrite each of the previous chapters. That way everything will flow together seamlessly rather than sounding like it was written in multiple points of the past 3 years. :) I hope you like the few changes I've made to previous chapters!

Album: "Always Moving Never Stopping" by The City Drive
Song: Runner

"And when I dream
I only see us
Do you too?
Running back to you
…
You'll say
"Is it really you or am I dreaming?"
You're not dreaming
Meet me in the dreamworld tonight"

Time is a funny thing. Technically it can't change, it can't slow down, it can't speed up, it can't stop, it can't end. Well, unless you've got a time-turner, but Hermione had sworn those off years ago. Still, people treat time like a resource. Something that can be used up. Something that will be gone some day. Something that we don't have enough of. Someday down the line we won't have any more time. Time is a funny thing, and Hermione had decided she wasn't going to waste one more minute of the time she had left.

It had been two and a half years since she had married Ron, six months since she divorced him, and three months since Fred and Angelina had signed for their own divorce. It had been two weeks since the last time Fred had come over for dinner at her flat. Hermione scowled when she remembered them having to cancel their plans last week because they were both so busy at work. Last weekend was when Hermione decided that she no longer cared what people thought. They could talk all they wanted, let their suspicions and rumors be heard by all. She couldn't even deny them if she tried, so what was the point?

Besides, Ron had moved on quickly enough. He had started dating an auror that Harry had introduced him to at a quidditch match just shortly after they had signed for the divorce. While neither Ron nor Hermione went out of their way to speak to one another, they were civil and were slowly working at rebuilding some semblance of a friendship that they had once had. Even Ron admitted that they were better off as friends than as spouses, it would just take time for them to remember how to be friends again.

Angelina and Fred had faired better after their separation and subsequent divorce. They remained friends and had even caught up over lunch once every few weeks. Hermione chucked at the irony of it all. Catching up over lunch. Wasn't that what had gotten them into this mess in the first place?

If she was honest with herself, and that was something she was learning to do, she knew that wasn't what had gotten them into this mess. Fred repeatedly told her not to do it, but she couldn't help but blame herself. She had accepted him into her life and her heart and then turned him away. She had listened to her head in the end and ignored the pain she felt everywhere else. She had wondered, so many years ago, how many hearts she might break with the decision she made before walking down the aisle towards Ron. She had been including her own in that equation. But that was years behind her; it was time to move on.

Hermione smiled to herself as she arranged the silverware on the table and filled two long-stemmed glasses with champagne. Fred would be home soon and everything had to be perfect. She let her thoughts settle on that word for a while as she cleaned up the rest of the kitchen.

Home. Fred would be home soon. She let out a rush of laughter as the thought finally sunk in. Fred was coming home soon and he didn't even know it.

She was done wasting time.

The clock above the stove read 5:55 and Fred was due to be over as soon as the shop closed on the hour. With one more glance around the kitchen to make sure the table was set and dinner was ready to be served she walked around her flat to make sure everything looked it's best. She knew that Fred didn't care if a book was on the table, or a dirty shirt was thrown in the corner ("I threw it there on purpose" he'd say with a smirk and a wink), but she liked keeping the place clean. Especially when she had other company over. It wouldn't have gone over well if his shorts had been found in the hall, or a work-in-progress gizmo or gadget for the shop was found on the table in the corner of the living room.

'Now-,' Hermione thought, 'Now I won't have to worry about that anymore.'

As the clock struck six o'clock she heard a rhythmic knock at the front door. She supposed she'd have to get him a key one of these days. Though if he was as smart as he claimed he was he probably could just use his wand to open the door. He never did think of that though. Barely containing the smile that seemed to spread from ear to ear she walked quickly to the front of the flat to let him in.

"You're right on – mmph…" Even before the door had been fully opened Fred had captured her lips with his and pushed her into the entrance hall. His fingers tangled in her hair as hers grabbed the front of his shirt. They stayed that way for a few moments, pressed up against the wall of the hallway before finally pulling apart to breathe. Fred moved just far enough away so that he could rest is forehead against hers.

"I missed you."

Hermione's smile was beaming as she ran her fingers over his neck and into his hair. She had wanted to wait until after dinner, or maybe during, to tell him her plan, but as she had come to realize, time is a resource, it does run out, and you have to take each moment for everything it is.

"If you want," She looked into his eyes, hoping he'd understand the meaning behind her words, "you never have to miss me again."

Fred's face scrunched in confusion as he processed what she had said. Hermione could see in his eyes the exact moment he figured out what she was implying, asking, telling him what she wanted. The smile that graced his face was nothing compared to the look in his eyes as he took her face between his hands and kissed her soundly.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Hermione laughed between the quick kisses that Fred began laying all over her lips, jaw, cheekbones, eyelids, forehead, nose, anywhere he could reach.

"Yes."

Later, Hermione would throw a pillow at his head for making her forget all about the dinner she had made. She would throw a shoe for making the champagne get warm. She would attempt to throw the other just as Fred's hand grasped her wrist and brought her back down into her bed with him. Their bed with him.

Even later, Fred would complain that he was hungry and Hermione would push him off the bed, onto the floor and tell him to go make himself something. Still laughing he would come back to bed with two reheated plates of her lasagna and two tall glasses of freshly chilled champagne. She'd tell him she never ate in bed. He'd tell her that she better get used to it because tomorrow he was making pancakes for breakfast. Pancakes with sprinkles. Which, he would claim, were only ever allowed to be eaten in bed, when they were both naked and famished for something other than each other. Hermione would attempt not to hit him with a pillow again.

.

.

In the morning Hermione awoke to gentle fingers running through her hair, softly combing out the knots that had developed throughout the night. Part of her wanted to move so that she could look up at the man whose chest she was currently using as a pillow. The other part of her never wanted to move a muscle again, lest she realize this was all just another figment of her imagination; she had grown quite used to them over the past four years. When the body beneath her head rose and fell with a yawn however she finally picked her head up and placed it on the pillow next to his.

His red hair was sticking up at strange angles and his eyes were still glossed over with sleep. He attempted to smile but his eyes began to shut once more. She thought he was the most wonderful thing she had ever woken up to.

"Is it really you?" Hermione broke the silence in wonderment a few minutes later. "Or am I just dreaming?"

"This can't possibly be a dream." Fred answered softly before finally opening his eyes once more, this time much more awake than he had been previously. "If this were a dream you would kiss me, put on my shirt and go to the kitchen to make me breakfast."

"I don't think I like that dream. I think I like the dream where you kiss me, put on my shirt and got to the kitchen to make me breakfast."

"You know," he replied, placing a finger against his chin in mock-thought, "I think I may like that dream, too." He leaned over and kissed her before hoping out of bed and began digging through the clothes that had been shed the night before. After pulling on his boxers he continued to move about the room in search of another lost article of clothing.

"Fred… Fred I was joking… don't you dare!" Hermione couldn't help laughing as she watched him pulling her tank top over his head. "Fred! You are going to stretch out my shirt!"

"Weren't you wearing something else over this? A little button-up jumper type thing?" He wondered to himself as he continued digging through clothes. "Where did that go? Oh right, I think it landed on the cat…"

He walked out of the room wearing nothing but his boxers and her tank top before coming back a few moments later shrugging in defeat. "He must have run off with it somewhere. Anyway… breakfast! I'll make pancakes! Do you like sprinkles in your pancakes? I'll put sprinkles in the pancakes."

Hermione fell back onto the pillows, a smile lighting up her face as she ran a hand through her hair. She must have had a moment of insanity. What had she been thinking? She had been thinking she was in love and that he loved her and that shouldn't two people who love each other also live with each other? She chuckled as she heard pots and pans crashing in the kitchen.

'Live with each other? We'll be lucky if we don't kill each other. Oh… He so better not have been serious about those sprinkles…'

"FRED!"