I Wasn't Prepared [Fred/Hermione]
Title: I Wasn’t Prepared
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Rating: FRT.
Word count: 2,580.
Warnings: Great amounts of angst.
Summary: On his birthday, Fred remembers a boggart and a proposal.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained herein are the property of JK Rowling. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Author's Notes: This takes place after the war. Voldemort has been defeated blah blah.
In hindsight, Fred supposed he should’ve seen it coming. He had always found her captivating. Enchanting, even, if that wasn’t too cliché of a word to use in the wizarding world. He should’ve known that he would fall in love with her, and that likewise, that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t the type to give over to self-deprecating moments, but when it came to Hermione, he could certainly go there. He just…wasn’t good enough. He sighed, and let his hand wander to the bottle of firewhisky on the table. He didn’t generally drink on his birthday (with the exception of the year when George and himself gained their majority; that was an experience to remember, and George hadn’t touched the stuff since) but the past couple of months had been quite miserable and Fred felt that he deserved to get rightly sloshed.
Grimmauld Place hadn’t changed much in the years since Sirius’ death. He supposed that Harry hadn’t wanted it to. Not that Harry actually went there much, he thought wryly. After he’d married Ginny, the bloke had bought his own place smack in the middle of Muggle London-something that both of them found somewhat necessary considering Harry was an Auror and Ginny was working at St. Mungo’s as a Healer.
Fred lived in Diagon Alley, in an apartment right above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, which he ran with George. The shop was nothing short of a success, just as he and his brother had planned long ago. The joy was somewhat tainted, however, by the thought that while he had a job (a very successful one at that), a family and friends, everything in that old cliché-he didn’t have what he really wanted. He didn’t have her. His reverie was disturbed by a sound from outside the room.
“Drowning your sorrows again, I see,” said Remus, entering the dining are from the hallway beyond. “You shouldn’t make a habit of this, you know.”
Fred shrugged. “Don’t plan too, mate. I just need…time.”
Remus gestured to the bottle of alcohol resting on the table in front of Fred as he sat down opposite him. “Time, and firewhisky?”
Fred laughed faintly. It wasn’t like Remus to pry, although he supposed that if he told the werewolf to bugger off, the bloke would-but he rather thought that he’d like to talk to the other man about this situation with Hermione. After all, if he was correct, Remus was the only one who knew the entire truth about it.
“How is she?” he said shortly.
Remus paused. “Quite well, I believe. She’s working in the Department of Mysteries now. I suspect her goal is to try to bring Sirius back. He wasn’t quite dead when he fell behind the Veil, you know. Bellatrix only stunned him.”
“Do you think she’ll succeed?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to believe she would, not just for myself but for her. You know as well as anyone that she doesn’t take failure well, especially when it involves someone she cares about deeply.”
Fred nodded sagely. Hermione did have a tendency to take failure rather harshly, even if the circumstances were out of her control. He supposed it was part of being a Gryffindor, as most people he knew from that House (himself included) were stubborn as all hell and didn’t take any form of rejection easily. Well. Rejection. That was something he meant to discuss with Remus. First, though, there were memories-
“Do you remember, Remus, that year when you taught at Hogwarts?”
“I remember it quite well. I enjoyed the time I spent there, especially learning to know you all while you were still students. It was one of the best years of my life, even though it occurred under rather dark circumstances.”
“What I was leaning towards was, well, that lesson we had with the boggart. I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten…?”
Remus looked thoughtfully at the Weasley twin for a moment. He hadn’t forgotten, of course; he doubted that he ever would forget the day when Fred had faced the boggart. It was, he had decided, one of the most heart-wrenching things to see. It wasn’t real, of course, and Fred knew that then as well as he did now, but it was his worst fear incarnate that came out of the wardrobe-
“No,” he said at length. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“How could you,” mused Fred. “I know I haven’t, and I’ve tried. It’s stayed with me, you know. I can’t seem to forget-” He stopped, shook his head, all the while trying to clear his mind of the memory from years ago, but it couldn’t (absolutely would not) go away.
The other students in the room had snickered at first, whispered behind his back as he stood facing the thing that had come out of the wardrobe. Professor Lupin looked on with interest at what the boggart had become as a result of Fred’s worst fear. He’d met Hermione Granger on the Hogwarts Express when the dementor attacked Harry, as well as having her as a student in an earlier class; he recognized her profile immediately.
Fred clutched his wand in his hand, could feel the moisture gathering there. He hadn’t entirely been expecting his worst fear to be Hermione; true, he fancied her a bit, but he wasn’t scared of her. He didn’t pay attention to the students behind him, laughing. He had expected a spider, or the Dark Lord, or the dead form of his twin. Not this.
“Fred Weasley,” spoke boggart-Hermione. “I should’ve expected this. You’re just standing there, you know what you’re supposed to do but you can’t do it. It’s s simple spell, really. Even I could do it. You’re weak, you know that? Always have been, always will be.”
He shook his head. Not real, he thought to himself. Not-
“This is real, Fred. As real as it’s ever going to get.” Boggart-Hermione walked closer to him, observing his reactions keenly. “You think you can be good for me? You’re nothing. All your jokes, your pranks. You can’t be good enough for me when you act like you’re five years old. You’re beneath me.”
“Riddikulus,” whispered George behind him. “Bloody hell, Fred. Say it!”
He held his wand up, could see his hand shaking, and said, “Riddikulus.” He could barely hear his own words. Though he hadn’t noticed it when it took place, the class had long ago gone quiet. There was nothing at all funny about this.
“Not good enough,” boggart-Hermione said, a tone of disgust in her voice.
“For Merlin’s sake,” George said, and nearly threw himself in front of Fred. The boggart’s shape changed immediately, but Fred hardly noticed.
The news about his boggart had passed quickly through the halls of Hogwarts, Fred remembered, eventually to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione listened as Lavender Brown told her patiently, several times, about the entire situation. She cornered him outside of his Transfiguration class, and he glared at George as his twin shrugged and walked away.
“Fred-”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Hermione,” he’d replied. “There’s nothing as can be done. I fancy you, to be sure, but I’ll get over it soon enough.”
She had a strange look on her face at this, but Fred didn’t quite know how to place it so he didn’t try. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if she actually did fancy him as well, or if she thought she did, or if there was a chance she did, or-
“I’m certain,” he said. “Now, I’ve got to go. George and I are going to put dungbombs in the Slytherin common room.” He started off in the opposite direction when Hermione gave a cry.
“Oh, Fred! Are you so certain of everything?”
He kept on walking.
“Fred?” said Remus uncertainly. The older twin had a tendency to get lost in his thoughts lately, or rather, whenever Hermione came into the conversation. There was always something that triggered a memory. It was rather bothersome, truly, but only to Fred, who didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t do things normally as he had done before he loved her.
“I was just having a flashback, is all, mate. Nothing worry ‘bout.” Fred paused. “You know, Remus, I asked her to marry me.”
The other man leaned forward in his seat. He hadn’t known. It was quite a surprise, really, that Fred would make such a risky move-everyone knew how Ron (thought) he felt about Hermione. It was nearly expected that at some point, they’d get together. And they had, shortly before the final battle.
“What did she say?”
Fred’s lips twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “Well, she’s not wearing a ring, is she?” He sighed. “She said that she couldn’t. That she wasn’t ready for marriage, she had too much to do, she didn’t love me. Things of that nature.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “She said so many things I began to think, after a while, that she was just making excuses not to.”
Remus nodded slowly. He wouldn’t put it past Hermione. If anyone thought to pair her up with another, it certainly wouldn’t be the outgoing prankster Fred Weasley. Hermione would be just as leery of the concept as the next witch or wizard over (perhaps even more so, considering how she had condemned their actions at Hogwarts.)
“After Bill’s wedding, when the three of them ran off to destroy horcruxes and whatnot, I lost myself for a bit. I’d stay up till all hours of the night worrying about her. I was completely knackered all of the time. George was worried about me, and rightly so, I suppose, but I could only think of her.”
“It’s perfectly reasonable, Fred,” began Remus.
“Therein lies the problem, mate,” said Fred. “There’s nothing reasonable about it. At the Battle of Hogwarts, I thought she was dead. We had seen Ron dueling with Rodolphus Lestrange, and we knew from intelligence that Voldmort was nearby with Harry. But Bellatrix-she shouted that she’d killed the know-it-all mudblood, and I don’t remember a lot after that. George told me that I went into this rage where I was just shouting off spells at Death Eaters, not really interested in defending myself.”
Tonks had told him something similar, Remus remembered. She had been there with the twins when Bellatrix had loosed the knowledge (however false it was) of Hermione’s death.
“Afterwards, you know,” continued Fred, “when the battle was over-we found her. She wasn’t dead, just a right bit banged up. And I saw her, and I didn’t care that Tonks, Shacklebolt, Charlie, or anyone else was there. I had to hold her, to make sure she was real and not the product of my imagination. So I held her, and I asked her to marry me-right then. She must’ve seen Ron or something right over my shoulder, because she said we’d talk about this later. And…” he trailed off.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” said Remus. “Hermione just needs time. You did ask her right after the last battle, after she’d been tortured by Bellatrix. You can’t expect her to make big decisions such as marriage following that.”
Fred looked at Remus carefully, and tried to control the tone of his voice. Hermione was a bit of a sore subject for him on all counts. “It’s beentwo years, she’s had plenty of time. And besides,” he continued, an offhand tone to his voice that belied the way he truly felt, “she said she didn’t love me. Nothing to it.”
“Fred, I honestly think-”
Whatever Remus had meant to say was lost in light of an unexpected guest at the door to the dining area. He looked up suddenly, having noticed her standing there.
“You can come in, you know,” he said gently.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary, Remus,” she said. “It is good to see you, though. I just… It’s Fred’s birthday today,” she finished, looking unsure of herself. She had seen Fred tense at the sound of her voice. Maybe she shouldn’t be here.
“Fred?” she continued at length. “Won’t you come out and see what I’ve got you?”
The tall, lanky twin stood and faced the younger woman who stood behind him. “Hermione. How’d you know I was…here?”
“I went to the shop first, to give you both your presents. George said that sometimes you come here, to talk to Remus. I knew you weren’t at the Burrow since… Well, I’ve been staying there for the past week.”
“Right. Well.” He looked at Remus for help he apparently wasn’t going to get. “I guess you’d better show me the present then. Lead on, Hermione.”
She smiled brilliantly at him, and held the door open as she said, “I brought it with me. It’s just out here.”
Well, thought Fred, of course it would be. It wasn’t like they would have to go anywhere, a place where other people would be around and it would be easier to pretend that he didn’t love her nearly as much as he actually did. In this dismal place, it was impossible; she was easily the brightest thing in every room. He heard the sharp crack as Remus disapparated-to where, he didn’t know. Traitor, he thought. Leaving me alone with-
He bumped into Hermione as she stopped in the middle of the main hall. He hadn’t noticed. He looked around, and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. No wrapped gifts, no boxes or packages. In fact, everything was in its place, and Hermione was looking at him expectantly. Fred raised his hands in mock surrender.
“So, ‘Mione,” he said, using the nickname that felt all too familiar on his tongue. “Where’s this gift you’ve got me, then?”
She looked at the floor, smiling quick, almost as if she was suddenly embarrassed by something she’d done. She took his hands, and Fred quirked an eyebrow. Hermione never held hands, not even with men she was dating. She just wasn’t that way.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What?”
“My present for you, Fred Weasley, on your twenty-first birthday, is an answer. And this is just so incredibly unlike me, so I hope you appreciate it-” She took a deep breath, composed herself, and began again. “Yes, I will marry you.”
For the smallest moment, Fred thought he couldn’t breathe. He honestly had trouble getting air into his lungs. He had wanted this for so long-dreamed it-that it seemed unreal. Perhaps, he mused, it was the work of a Daydream Charm.
“It’s not, is it?” he questioned her.
“The work of a Patented Daydream Charm.”
She laughed. It was a glorious sound, he realized, and she did it so rarely. Even less since the war. “Of course not, Fred. Will you accept my answer, or shall I just say it again and again until you do?”
He wondered how she could even ask that question; of course he’d accept her answer. Of course. What kind of man would stand her and listen to a woman like Hermione Granger offer herself and not accept? A bloody idiot, that’s what kind. And Fred, who was not a bloody idiot but a Weasley twin and a rather clever wizard, chose at that moment to pull Hermione into his arms and kiss her full on the mouth, like he had always wanted.
FIN.
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Rating: FRT.
Word count: 2,580.
Warnings: Great amounts of angst.
Summary: On his birthday, Fred remembers a boggart and a proposal.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained herein are the property of JK Rowling. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Author's Notes: This takes place after the war. Voldemort has been defeated blah blah.
In hindsight, Fred supposed he should’ve seen it coming. He had always found her captivating. Enchanting, even, if that wasn’t too cliché of a word to use in the wizarding world. He should’ve known that he would fall in love with her, and that likewise, that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t the type to give over to self-deprecating moments, but when it came to Hermione, he could certainly go there. He just…wasn’t good enough. He sighed, and let his hand wander to the bottle of firewhisky on the table. He didn’t generally drink on his birthday (with the exception of the year when George and himself gained their majority; that was an experience to remember, and George hadn’t touched the stuff since) but the past couple of months had been quite miserable and Fred felt that he deserved to get rightly sloshed.
Grimmauld Place hadn’t changed much in the years since Sirius’ death. He supposed that Harry hadn’t wanted it to. Not that Harry actually went there much, he thought wryly. After he’d married Ginny, the bloke had bought his own place smack in the middle of Muggle London-something that both of them found somewhat necessary considering Harry was an Auror and Ginny was working at St. Mungo’s as a Healer.
Fred lived in Diagon Alley, in an apartment right above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, which he ran with George. The shop was nothing short of a success, just as he and his brother had planned long ago. The joy was somewhat tainted, however, by the thought that while he had a job (a very successful one at that), a family and friends, everything in that old cliché-he didn’t have what he really wanted. He didn’t have her. His reverie was disturbed by a sound from outside the room.
“Drowning your sorrows again, I see,” said Remus, entering the dining are from the hallway beyond. “You shouldn’t make a habit of this, you know.”
Fred shrugged. “Don’t plan too, mate. I just need…time.”
Remus gestured to the bottle of alcohol resting on the table in front of Fred as he sat down opposite him. “Time, and firewhisky?”
Fred laughed faintly. It wasn’t like Remus to pry, although he supposed that if he told the werewolf to bugger off, the bloke would-but he rather thought that he’d like to talk to the other man about this situation with Hermione. After all, if he was correct, Remus was the only one who knew the entire truth about it.
“How is she?” he said shortly.
Remus paused. “Quite well, I believe. She’s working in the Department of Mysteries now. I suspect her goal is to try to bring Sirius back. He wasn’t quite dead when he fell behind the Veil, you know. Bellatrix only stunned him.”
“Do you think she’ll succeed?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to believe she would, not just for myself but for her. You know as well as anyone that she doesn’t take failure well, especially when it involves someone she cares about deeply.”
Fred nodded sagely. Hermione did have a tendency to take failure rather harshly, even if the circumstances were out of her control. He supposed it was part of being a Gryffindor, as most people he knew from that House (himself included) were stubborn as all hell and didn’t take any form of rejection easily. Well. Rejection. That was something he meant to discuss with Remus. First, though, there were memories-
“Do you remember, Remus, that year when you taught at Hogwarts?”
“I remember it quite well. I enjoyed the time I spent there, especially learning to know you all while you were still students. It was one of the best years of my life, even though it occurred under rather dark circumstances.”
“What I was leaning towards was, well, that lesson we had with the boggart. I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten…?”
Remus looked thoughtfully at the Weasley twin for a moment. He hadn’t forgotten, of course; he doubted that he ever would forget the day when Fred had faced the boggart. It was, he had decided, one of the most heart-wrenching things to see. It wasn’t real, of course, and Fred knew that then as well as he did now, but it was his worst fear incarnate that came out of the wardrobe-
“No,” he said at length. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“How could you,” mused Fred. “I know I haven’t, and I’ve tried. It’s stayed with me, you know. I can’t seem to forget-” He stopped, shook his head, all the while trying to clear his mind of the memory from years ago, but it couldn’t (absolutely would not) go away.
The other students in the room had snickered at first, whispered behind his back as he stood facing the thing that had come out of the wardrobe. Professor Lupin looked on with interest at what the boggart had become as a result of Fred’s worst fear. He’d met Hermione Granger on the Hogwarts Express when the dementor attacked Harry, as well as having her as a student in an earlier class; he recognized her profile immediately.
Fred clutched his wand in his hand, could feel the moisture gathering there. He hadn’t entirely been expecting his worst fear to be Hermione; true, he fancied her a bit, but he wasn’t scared of her. He didn’t pay attention to the students behind him, laughing. He had expected a spider, or the Dark Lord, or the dead form of his twin. Not this.
“Fred Weasley,” spoke boggart-Hermione. “I should’ve expected this. You’re just standing there, you know what you’re supposed to do but you can’t do it. It’s s simple spell, really. Even I could do it. You’re weak, you know that? Always have been, always will be.”
He shook his head. Not real, he thought to himself. Not-
“This is real, Fred. As real as it’s ever going to get.” Boggart-Hermione walked closer to him, observing his reactions keenly. “You think you can be good for me? You’re nothing. All your jokes, your pranks. You can’t be good enough for me when you act like you’re five years old. You’re beneath me.”
“Riddikulus,” whispered George behind him. “Bloody hell, Fred. Say it!”
He held his wand up, could see his hand shaking, and said, “Riddikulus.” He could barely hear his own words. Though he hadn’t noticed it when it took place, the class had long ago gone quiet. There was nothing at all funny about this.
“Not good enough,” boggart-Hermione said, a tone of disgust in her voice.
“For Merlin’s sake,” George said, and nearly threw himself in front of Fred. The boggart’s shape changed immediately, but Fred hardly noticed.
The news about his boggart had passed quickly through the halls of Hogwarts, Fred remembered, eventually to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione listened as Lavender Brown told her patiently, several times, about the entire situation. She cornered him outside of his Transfiguration class, and he glared at George as his twin shrugged and walked away.
“Fred-”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Hermione,” he’d replied. “There’s nothing as can be done. I fancy you, to be sure, but I’ll get over it soon enough.”
She had a strange look on her face at this, but Fred didn’t quite know how to place it so he didn’t try. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if she actually did fancy him as well, or if she thought she did, or if there was a chance she did, or-
“I’m certain,” he said. “Now, I’ve got to go. George and I are going to put dungbombs in the Slytherin common room.” He started off in the opposite direction when Hermione gave a cry.
“Oh, Fred! Are you so certain of everything?”
He kept on walking.
“Fred?” said Remus uncertainly. The older twin had a tendency to get lost in his thoughts lately, or rather, whenever Hermione came into the conversation. There was always something that triggered a memory. It was rather bothersome, truly, but only to Fred, who didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t do things normally as he had done before he loved her.
“I was just having a flashback, is all, mate. Nothing worry ‘bout.” Fred paused. “You know, Remus, I asked her to marry me.”
The other man leaned forward in his seat. He hadn’t known. It was quite a surprise, really, that Fred would make such a risky move-everyone knew how Ron (thought) he felt about Hermione. It was nearly expected that at some point, they’d get together. And they had, shortly before the final battle.
“What did she say?”
Fred’s lips twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “Well, she’s not wearing a ring, is she?” He sighed. “She said that she couldn’t. That she wasn’t ready for marriage, she had too much to do, she didn’t love me. Things of that nature.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “She said so many things I began to think, after a while, that she was just making excuses not to.”
Remus nodded slowly. He wouldn’t put it past Hermione. If anyone thought to pair her up with another, it certainly wouldn’t be the outgoing prankster Fred Weasley. Hermione would be just as leery of the concept as the next witch or wizard over (perhaps even more so, considering how she had condemned their actions at Hogwarts.)
“After Bill’s wedding, when the three of them ran off to destroy horcruxes and whatnot, I lost myself for a bit. I’d stay up till all hours of the night worrying about her. I was completely knackered all of the time. George was worried about me, and rightly so, I suppose, but I could only think of her.”
“It’s perfectly reasonable, Fred,” began Remus.
“Therein lies the problem, mate,” said Fred. “There’s nothing reasonable about it. At the Battle of Hogwarts, I thought she was dead. We had seen Ron dueling with Rodolphus Lestrange, and we knew from intelligence that Voldmort was nearby with Harry. But Bellatrix-she shouted that she’d killed the know-it-all mudblood, and I don’t remember a lot after that. George told me that I went into this rage where I was just shouting off spells at Death Eaters, not really interested in defending myself.”
Tonks had told him something similar, Remus remembered. She had been there with the twins when Bellatrix had loosed the knowledge (however false it was) of Hermione’s death.
“Afterwards, you know,” continued Fred, “when the battle was over-we found her. She wasn’t dead, just a right bit banged up. And I saw her, and I didn’t care that Tonks, Shacklebolt, Charlie, or anyone else was there. I had to hold her, to make sure she was real and not the product of my imagination. So I held her, and I asked her to marry me-right then. She must’ve seen Ron or something right over my shoulder, because she said we’d talk about this later. And…” he trailed off.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” said Remus. “Hermione just needs time. You did ask her right after the last battle, after she’d been tortured by Bellatrix. You can’t expect her to make big decisions such as marriage following that.”
Fred looked at Remus carefully, and tried to control the tone of his voice. Hermione was a bit of a sore subject for him on all counts. “It’s beentwo years, she’s had plenty of time. And besides,” he continued, an offhand tone to his voice that belied the way he truly felt, “she said she didn’t love me. Nothing to it.”
“Fred, I honestly think-”
Whatever Remus had meant to say was lost in light of an unexpected guest at the door to the dining area. He looked up suddenly, having noticed her standing there.
“You can come in, you know,” he said gently.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary, Remus,” she said. “It is good to see you, though. I just… It’s Fred’s birthday today,” she finished, looking unsure of herself. She had seen Fred tense at the sound of her voice. Maybe she shouldn’t be here.
“Fred?” she continued at length. “Won’t you come out and see what I’ve got you?”
The tall, lanky twin stood and faced the younger woman who stood behind him. “Hermione. How’d you know I was…here?”
“I went to the shop first, to give you both your presents. George said that sometimes you come here, to talk to Remus. I knew you weren’t at the Burrow since… Well, I’ve been staying there for the past week.”
“Right. Well.” He looked at Remus for help he apparently wasn’t going to get. “I guess you’d better show me the present then. Lead on, Hermione.”
She smiled brilliantly at him, and held the door open as she said, “I brought it with me. It’s just out here.”
Well, thought Fred, of course it would be. It wasn’t like they would have to go anywhere, a place where other people would be around and it would be easier to pretend that he didn’t love her nearly as much as he actually did. In this dismal place, it was impossible; she was easily the brightest thing in every room. He heard the sharp crack as Remus disapparated-to where, he didn’t know. Traitor, he thought. Leaving me alone with-
He bumped into Hermione as she stopped in the middle of the main hall. He hadn’t noticed. He looked around, and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. No wrapped gifts, no boxes or packages. In fact, everything was in its place, and Hermione was looking at him expectantly. Fred raised his hands in mock surrender.
“So, ‘Mione,” he said, using the nickname that felt all too familiar on his tongue. “Where’s this gift you’ve got me, then?”
She looked at the floor, smiling quick, almost as if she was suddenly embarrassed by something she’d done. She took his hands, and Fred quirked an eyebrow. Hermione never held hands, not even with men she was dating. She just wasn’t that way.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What?”
“My present for you, Fred Weasley, on your twenty-first birthday, is an answer. And this is just so incredibly unlike me, so I hope you appreciate it-” She took a deep breath, composed herself, and began again. “Yes, I will marry you.”
For the smallest moment, Fred thought he couldn’t breathe. He honestly had trouble getting air into his lungs. He had wanted this for so long-dreamed it-that it seemed unreal. Perhaps, he mused, it was the work of a Daydream Charm.
“It’s not, is it?” he questioned her.
“The work of a Patented Daydream Charm.”
She laughed. It was a glorious sound, he realized, and she did it so rarely. Even less since the war. “Of course not, Fred. Will you accept my answer, or shall I just say it again and again until you do?”
He wondered how she could even ask that question; of course he’d accept her answer. Of course. What kind of man would stand her and listen to a woman like Hermione Granger offer herself and not accept? A bloody idiot, that’s what kind. And Fred, who was not a bloody idiot but a Weasley twin and a rather clever wizard, chose at that moment to pull Hermione into his arms and kiss her full on the mouth, like he had always wanted.
FIN.