Make Me Laugh [Fred/Hermione]
Title: Make Me Laugh
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Rating: FRT.
15_song_titles Prompt: The Joker
Word count: 2, 915.
Warnings: Spoilers for DH.
Summary: Hermione just wants to feel happy, even if it’s just for a little while. Fred is there to help.
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 starts before Deathly Hallows, although as the chapters progress it will continue through the end of the book.
In typical fashion, it seemed as if summer had come quicker to the Burrow than it had to any other part of Britain. The sun was bright and, as Hermione lay under a tree, she observed that it turned the undersides of the leaves a lovely green color. The grass was warm, and as she felt it on the bare skin of her legs and arms, she was grateful that she had come early to the Burrow. It had always felt more like home to her than any other place, and now that her parents… Hermione breathed deeply. She couldn’t think about that now. She just couldn’t. She had already been at the Burrow for a few weeks already, and had succeeded in avoiding thoughts of her parents thus far. She wouldn’t start now.
The three of them had agreed that after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, they’d set off in search of the horcruxes. Harry had a plan, he usually did (even if it was terrible, and not well-thought at all), and they’d make it out of this alright. They had to. She had already started reading up on spells, jinxes, curses and all other manner of magic that she thought might be useful on their quest. Ginny had been looking at her oddly, she must suspect something; Mrs. Weasley, too, for she was using every opportunity to keep Ron and herself apart.
Which was why, Hermione reminded herself, that she had taken this time for herself. To sneak out of the Burrow, away from all of the hustle and bustle that was a product of getting ready for the wedding. Away from Ron, who was obviously trying to court her. She really didn’t like him that way. At Dumbledore’s funeral, sure, but she just needed him in this really desperate way like when you just want somebody to hold you until it doesn’t hurt anymore. It was just strange to think of Ron in any other way than just her friend. She wanted to be alone, ignored, unobtrusive. She wanted-
“Hermione?”
She sat up and, shielding her eyes from the sun, looked at the tall and lanky redhead approaching her from the direction of the Burrow. It was one of the twins, she realized, and she thought with regret that the calm she’d been enjoying for the past hour or so was about to be shattered. The Weasley twins did, after all, have a notorious penchant for being loud, disruptive, and generally all-around destroyers of the peace. The distaste that she was feeling must have shown on her face, for the twin who suddenly sat down beside her in the grass looked at her with obvious concern.
“Don’t make faces, Hermione. What if your face got stuck that way? What then?”
Hermione’s lips lifted in an answering smile. Always, and against her better wishes, the twins had a way of making her laugh. And maybe that was just what she needed right now, but it was also what she didn’t want. She just wanted to be alone.
“Well, then, I guess it will be everyone else’s loss.” She paused and peered closely at her new companion. “George? No. Fred.”
Fred’s eyes, unlike his twin’s, were a deeper shade of blue. He also had less freckles and was slightly taller, not that she noticed these things about him. It was only against the rules, she admonished herself, to notice things like that about your best mate’s older brother, especially if said best mate had fancied you for years.
“You know, Hermione,” he said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being the only one who can tell George and I apart.”
She blushed, and as the color canvassed her cheeks, Hermione thought of ways to come off as cool and knowing, but found that she couldn’t say anything at all. Instead, she simply lay back in the grass with her arms at her sides. She closed her eyes and found herself wishing, somehow, that Fred would simply give up and walk away after a few minutes. Instead she distinctly felt him lie down beside her, felt his hand brush hers as he adjusted himself, and she heaved an internal sigh.
“I just want to be alone,” she said quietly.
“I know that feeling. It’s like, you care about these people, and you want to help them, and do all you can, but at the same time…” Fred trailed off, and instead of finishing his sentence, began tearing up grass from the ground beneath him.
“You have your own problems, your own things to deal with, and you just want everyone to shove off so you can be by yourself,” Hermione finished.
“Yeah,” said Fred after a moment. “That’s exactly it.”
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, the sun filtering through the leaves above them, and Hermione was startled to find that she actually enjoyed the company of the Weasley twin. In all the times before when she had been around him, she had found him irritating and far too loud, but now… It was as if something had changed within him. She couldn’t quite sense what it was, but Hermione knew enough of him to know that the change had happened.
“I was supposed to be looking for you, you know,” he said at length. “Mum sent me. She wants you to help her and Fleur pick out dresses for the bridesmaids before dinner. It’s near four o’clock, you know.”
Hermione made a sound of disgust. “I’d rather not, thanks. I like Fleur, but honestly-”
Fred let out a laugh and sat up on his elbows. “Yeah, I thought so too. I told Mum I’d look, but I made no promises. Suppose I didn’t find you,” he said cautiously. “What would happen then?”
Hermione turned her eyes away from the greenery and brown eyes met blue. She could see that he was in earnest, that he truly would say that he hadn’t found her just so she could have a few more moments alone. Fred, she thought, was more than she ever imagined he was. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t always wanted to know him, or his twin; it was just that they had never gotten on properly, always the opposites, and they had spent far too much time annoying each other and far less time knowing each other’s favorite flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.
The war, the impending doom of lost dreams and bloodshed had Hermione overthinking everything, and knowing that there wasn’t much time left. She wanted to know Fred, and George; oh, she just wanted.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, “we could stay lost for a while. Together, I mean. If you want. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I know I can be a bother sometimes-”
She was talking far too quickly now, nervous and something quite unlike the Hermione he knew, and Fred liked her too much to allow her to continue. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I want to.” He looked away then, fingers worrying the laces of his sneakers. There was something he wanted to ask her, had wanted to ask her since she had arrived that the Burrow looking weary and older since the last time he had seen her.
“Hermione,” he said at length. “Why’d you come to the Burrow so early?”
“My parents are on holiday,” she said shortly. “They said I could come, they know how friendly I am with you lot.”
He studied her carefully and shook his head. Fred was always one to act first and think later, but he had thought long and hard these past few weeks about how to approach Hermione about why she’d been so strange lately.
“I think you’re lying, Hermione. You’ve been off lately, not quite yourself-”
Hermione sat up sharply and turned to him, her eyes narrowed into slits and her tone fierce. “Well, I think you’d be off too if you had to perform a Memory Charm on your own parents to protect them from You-Know-Who! At least your parents know who you are, Fred! My parents are now in Australia, go by the names of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and believe they have no child. It’s alright for you, you’re Pureblood and it’s safer, but it’s not for them, and it’s not for me!”
Fred stared at her for a moment, not quite knowing what to say; he stared at Hermione, with her eyes welling with tears and her hands clenched in the grass. He reached for her, and even though she made a move to shrug away from him, he gripped her shoulder and pulled her into his embrace. His arms wound around her and Fred found himself whispering that it will be okay, don’t worry, I’m here into Hermione’s ear. It was so unlike him, he thought, but hadn’t he always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve? George was terribly internal, always afraid of showing his feelings to anyone but him. Afraid of being hurt, that one.
She clutched at the fabric of his t-shirt, her sobs muffled by his chest. Through the dim haze of overwhelming sorrow and decisions forced on her by the times, Hermione realized that she was being comforted by Fred Weasley, that his hands were threaded through her wild hair and that he was whispering that it will be okay, I promise. Vaguely uncomfortable with the situation, although for some reason she had never felt so content in her life, she took several deep breaths and calmed herself. After a moment, Hermione found the will to pull herself from Fred’s embrace.
His hand remained on her shoulder for a moment than was absolutely necessary, and she was grateful for it. The touch gave her a warm feeling that lasted long after his hand was gone. As she looked out over the tall grass the bowed in the wind, she brought her knees up to her chest and circled her arms around them. “Make me laugh,” she said softly.
“What?” Fred asked, startled.
“Fred, I want you to make me laugh. It’s what you do, isn’t it, mischief and mayhem. Please. Just for a while. I want to be happy for a bit, to forget why I just spent the last few minutes sobbing on your shirt.”
He grinned at her easily. “Okay, then. Two wizards walk into a bar, one with an owl on his shoulder and the other carrying a broom. The first wizard says…”
A few moments later and Hermione clutched at her sides, laughing brightly. She couldn’t breathe on account of laughing so hard. “Oh, Fred! That joke was absolutely terrible!”
He brushed a stay lock of hair behind her ear as he said, “But you liked it well enough, didn’t you?”
She shook her head, still smiling. After one joke, she already felt a thousand times better than she had felt a few moments ago. She wondered if this was what it was to be around Fred all the time, a near-permanent state of elation and contentment. She certainly hoped so. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred interrupted her.
“Ah, Hermione, the best is yet to come.”
He reached into his pocket and brought forth a bunch of sweets (from the shop, no doubt, thought Hermione) and she watched curiously as he gave a wave of his wand and unwrapped them all. Fred gave a conspiratorial wink and shoved all of the sweets into his mouth at once. She gave a cry. There was no telling what effects doing so would have on him, and indeed, the effects were instantaneous. His hair gave a shudder, rather like the bristles of a broom did before ready to take flight, and turned a sickly shade of green. His skin turned a sort of maroon, which reminded her of Ron’s dress robes fourth year. Blue polka dots kept appearing at random intervals on his skin and disappearing just as quickly. Fred, she decided, looked utterly ridiculous, and she felt her lips moving upward in a smile that she couldn’t keep inside.
“What do you think, Hermione?” Fred said, looking down at his arms to survey what color he had become. “How do I look?”
She laughed warmly. “Somehow, Fred, I don’t think that green is your color.”
Fred frowned. “Green? Where?”
Hermione reached out and ran her hands through his hair. Red or green, she thought, it was still felt wonderful. “I just like you better with red hair, is all.”
His hand caught hers as it fell from his hair. He was struck then by how perfect it felt in his, but he instantly banished the thought. “Hermione,” Fred said, his spare hand reaching into his other pocket, “care to take a walk on the wild side?”
She looked cautiously at the sweets he had pulled out of his pocket. She didn’t detect any Puking Pastilles, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. Not that it mattered anyway, she reminded herself as she took the candies out of Fred’s hand. She wanted to forget her troubles, she wanted to have fun and just be happy for once. As she gestured for Fred to unwrap the sweets with his wand, Hermione gave a small smile and said, “This is fun.”
“Of course it is, would you expect it to be anything else?” Fred said, his eyes meeting Hermione’s. It was an honest question, she could tell, but she had been honest too; she had never expected to actually have this much fun with the Weasley twin.
“Bottoms up,” she said, and put the sweets in her mouth. A few seconds later Fred was laughing gleefully as he observed the new changes in Hermione. Her skin had turned a violent shade of blue, nearly violet, and it reminded him of something but he couldn’t quite say what. Her hair, wild and untameable though it was, had turned orange. Not the orange of Weasley hair, he thought, but legitimately the color of the fruit. To top it all off, though, she gave a hiccup just then and a pair of bubbles floated out of her mouth.
“Tasted a bit like bubblegum,” Hermione said a length. “And what’s so funny then?”
“You,” Fred laughed. “You look like a circus sideshow, Hermione, honestly. But,” he corrected himself, “beautiful all the same.”
Fingering her locks of orange hair, Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but was startled into silence by the voice of Mrs. Weasley echoing over the fields. “Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger! Both of you get inside this minute! I know you two are out there, and dinner’s ready, so you might as well come in.”
She stared off towards the house and moved to get up, but took Fred’s hand when it was offered. She brushed the grass off the bottoms of her shorts and found herself laughing when she saw that even her legs were affected by the combination of sweets. I must look perfectly insane, she thought. What will the others think? She gasped. “Fred! Should we set ourselves right before we go inside? Oh, what will your mother say-”
“Hermione, shh,” Fred said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “George and I do this sort of thing all the time for kicks, don’t worry about it. Besides, it takes a bit to undo, we won’t have the time.” As they began their short walk back to the Burrow, he grinned. “Can you imagine their faces?”
Hermione gave a small laugh. “I’m not sure I want to.”
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she, in return, put her arm easily around his waist. And although this sort of situation was entirely new to Hermione, it seemed as if they had done it a thousand times before. “Hermione, just imagine. It’ll be brilliant.” He continued persuading her all the way to the front door of the house, and by then, she was completely done in. He rested his hand on the doorknob, and he looked questioningly at the girl beside him. Woman, he reminded himself. She was of age, and after all she’d been through with his brother and Harry, it wasn’t right to call her a girl. But she was still so young yet-
She nodded.
At first it was only surprised silence that greeted them in the dining area, but then the air around them exploded into laughter, outraged shrieks (from Mrs. Weasley, no doubt) and loud exclamations of “Completely brilliant!” and “How in Merlin’s name did you get her to do it, Fred?”
As Mrs. Weasley set about scolding Fred for taking advantage of Hermione and trying to set him right, he looked over her shoulder, trying to see Hermione. He could just see her, talking to Ron and Harry by the doorway. She was smiling, looking better than she had since first arriving at the Burrow, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Fred thought, just for a moment, that he’d be glad if it was because of him. She looked toward him suddenly and gave a little wave, grinning at him. He grinned back, and just then he remembered what she looked like; a blueberry. Fred turned his attention back to the scolding he was getting from his mum, but only slightly; the rest of his thoughts were on Hermione, and how pretty she looked when she laughed.
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Rating: FRT.
15_song_titles Prompt: The Joker
Word count: 2, 915.
Warnings: Spoilers for DH.
Summary: Hermione just wants to feel happy, even if it’s just for a little while. Fred is there to help.
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 starts before Deathly Hallows, although as the chapters progress it will continue through the end of the book.
In typical fashion, it seemed as if summer had come quicker to the Burrow than it had to any other part of Britain. The sun was bright and, as Hermione lay under a tree, she observed that it turned the undersides of the leaves a lovely green color. The grass was warm, and as she felt it on the bare skin of her legs and arms, she was grateful that she had come early to the Burrow. It had always felt more like home to her than any other place, and now that her parents… Hermione breathed deeply. She couldn’t think about that now. She just couldn’t. She had already been at the Burrow for a few weeks already, and had succeeded in avoiding thoughts of her parents thus far. She wouldn’t start now.
The three of them had agreed that after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, they’d set off in search of the horcruxes. Harry had a plan, he usually did (even if it was terrible, and not well-thought at all), and they’d make it out of this alright. They had to. She had already started reading up on spells, jinxes, curses and all other manner of magic that she thought might be useful on their quest. Ginny had been looking at her oddly, she must suspect something; Mrs. Weasley, too, for she was using every opportunity to keep Ron and herself apart.
Which was why, Hermione reminded herself, that she had taken this time for herself. To sneak out of the Burrow, away from all of the hustle and bustle that was a product of getting ready for the wedding. Away from Ron, who was obviously trying to court her. She really didn’t like him that way. At Dumbledore’s funeral, sure, but she just needed him in this really desperate way like when you just want somebody to hold you until it doesn’t hurt anymore. It was just strange to think of Ron in any other way than just her friend. She wanted to be alone, ignored, unobtrusive. She wanted-
“Hermione?”
She sat up and, shielding her eyes from the sun, looked at the tall and lanky redhead approaching her from the direction of the Burrow. It was one of the twins, she realized, and she thought with regret that the calm she’d been enjoying for the past hour or so was about to be shattered. The Weasley twins did, after all, have a notorious penchant for being loud, disruptive, and generally all-around destroyers of the peace. The distaste that she was feeling must have shown on her face, for the twin who suddenly sat down beside her in the grass looked at her with obvious concern.
“Don’t make faces, Hermione. What if your face got stuck that way? What then?”
Hermione’s lips lifted in an answering smile. Always, and against her better wishes, the twins had a way of making her laugh. And maybe that was just what she needed right now, but it was also what she didn’t want. She just wanted to be alone.
“Well, then, I guess it will be everyone else’s loss.” She paused and peered closely at her new companion. “George? No. Fred.”
Fred’s eyes, unlike his twin’s, were a deeper shade of blue. He also had less freckles and was slightly taller, not that she noticed these things about him. It was only against the rules, she admonished herself, to notice things like that about your best mate’s older brother, especially if said best mate had fancied you for years.
“You know, Hermione,” he said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being the only one who can tell George and I apart.”
She blushed, and as the color canvassed her cheeks, Hermione thought of ways to come off as cool and knowing, but found that she couldn’t say anything at all. Instead, she simply lay back in the grass with her arms at her sides. She closed her eyes and found herself wishing, somehow, that Fred would simply give up and walk away after a few minutes. Instead she distinctly felt him lie down beside her, felt his hand brush hers as he adjusted himself, and she heaved an internal sigh.
“I just want to be alone,” she said quietly.
“I know that feeling. It’s like, you care about these people, and you want to help them, and do all you can, but at the same time…” Fred trailed off, and instead of finishing his sentence, began tearing up grass from the ground beneath him.
“You have your own problems, your own things to deal with, and you just want everyone to shove off so you can be by yourself,” Hermione finished.
“Yeah,” said Fred after a moment. “That’s exactly it.”
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, the sun filtering through the leaves above them, and Hermione was startled to find that she actually enjoyed the company of the Weasley twin. In all the times before when she had been around him, she had found him irritating and far too loud, but now… It was as if something had changed within him. She couldn’t quite sense what it was, but Hermione knew enough of him to know that the change had happened.
“I was supposed to be looking for you, you know,” he said at length. “Mum sent me. She wants you to help her and Fleur pick out dresses for the bridesmaids before dinner. It’s near four o’clock, you know.”
Hermione made a sound of disgust. “I’d rather not, thanks. I like Fleur, but honestly-”
Fred let out a laugh and sat up on his elbows. “Yeah, I thought so too. I told Mum I’d look, but I made no promises. Suppose I didn’t find you,” he said cautiously. “What would happen then?”
Hermione turned her eyes away from the greenery and brown eyes met blue. She could see that he was in earnest, that he truly would say that he hadn’t found her just so she could have a few more moments alone. Fred, she thought, was more than she ever imagined he was. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t always wanted to know him, or his twin; it was just that they had never gotten on properly, always the opposites, and they had spent far too much time annoying each other and far less time knowing each other’s favorite flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.
The war, the impending doom of lost dreams and bloodshed had Hermione overthinking everything, and knowing that there wasn’t much time left. She wanted to know Fred, and George; oh, she just wanted.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, “we could stay lost for a while. Together, I mean. If you want. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I know I can be a bother sometimes-”
She was talking far too quickly now, nervous and something quite unlike the Hermione he knew, and Fred liked her too much to allow her to continue. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I want to.” He looked away then, fingers worrying the laces of his sneakers. There was something he wanted to ask her, had wanted to ask her since she had arrived that the Burrow looking weary and older since the last time he had seen her.
“Hermione,” he said at length. “Why’d you come to the Burrow so early?”
“My parents are on holiday,” she said shortly. “They said I could come, they know how friendly I am with you lot.”
He studied her carefully and shook his head. Fred was always one to act first and think later, but he had thought long and hard these past few weeks about how to approach Hermione about why she’d been so strange lately.
“I think you’re lying, Hermione. You’ve been off lately, not quite yourself-”
Hermione sat up sharply and turned to him, her eyes narrowed into slits and her tone fierce. “Well, I think you’d be off too if you had to perform a Memory Charm on your own parents to protect them from You-Know-Who! At least your parents know who you are, Fred! My parents are now in Australia, go by the names of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and believe they have no child. It’s alright for you, you’re Pureblood and it’s safer, but it’s not for them, and it’s not for me!”
Fred stared at her for a moment, not quite knowing what to say; he stared at Hermione, with her eyes welling with tears and her hands clenched in the grass. He reached for her, and even though she made a move to shrug away from him, he gripped her shoulder and pulled her into his embrace. His arms wound around her and Fred found himself whispering that it will be okay, don’t worry, I’m here into Hermione’s ear. It was so unlike him, he thought, but hadn’t he always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve? George was terribly internal, always afraid of showing his feelings to anyone but him. Afraid of being hurt, that one.
She clutched at the fabric of his t-shirt, her sobs muffled by his chest. Through the dim haze of overwhelming sorrow and decisions forced on her by the times, Hermione realized that she was being comforted by Fred Weasley, that his hands were threaded through her wild hair and that he was whispering that it will be okay, I promise. Vaguely uncomfortable with the situation, although for some reason she had never felt so content in her life, she took several deep breaths and calmed herself. After a moment, Hermione found the will to pull herself from Fred’s embrace.
His hand remained on her shoulder for a moment than was absolutely necessary, and she was grateful for it. The touch gave her a warm feeling that lasted long after his hand was gone. As she looked out over the tall grass the bowed in the wind, she brought her knees up to her chest and circled her arms around them. “Make me laugh,” she said softly.
“What?” Fred asked, startled.
“Fred, I want you to make me laugh. It’s what you do, isn’t it, mischief and mayhem. Please. Just for a while. I want to be happy for a bit, to forget why I just spent the last few minutes sobbing on your shirt.”
He grinned at her easily. “Okay, then. Two wizards walk into a bar, one with an owl on his shoulder and the other carrying a broom. The first wizard says…”
A few moments later and Hermione clutched at her sides, laughing brightly. She couldn’t breathe on account of laughing so hard. “Oh, Fred! That joke was absolutely terrible!”
He brushed a stay lock of hair behind her ear as he said, “But you liked it well enough, didn’t you?”
She shook her head, still smiling. After one joke, she already felt a thousand times better than she had felt a few moments ago. She wondered if this was what it was to be around Fred all the time, a near-permanent state of elation and contentment. She certainly hoped so. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred interrupted her.
“Ah, Hermione, the best is yet to come.”
He reached into his pocket and brought forth a bunch of sweets (from the shop, no doubt, thought Hermione) and she watched curiously as he gave a wave of his wand and unwrapped them all. Fred gave a conspiratorial wink and shoved all of the sweets into his mouth at once. She gave a cry. There was no telling what effects doing so would have on him, and indeed, the effects were instantaneous. His hair gave a shudder, rather like the bristles of a broom did before ready to take flight, and turned a sickly shade of green. His skin turned a sort of maroon, which reminded her of Ron’s dress robes fourth year. Blue polka dots kept appearing at random intervals on his skin and disappearing just as quickly. Fred, she decided, looked utterly ridiculous, and she felt her lips moving upward in a smile that she couldn’t keep inside.
“What do you think, Hermione?” Fred said, looking down at his arms to survey what color he had become. “How do I look?”
She laughed warmly. “Somehow, Fred, I don’t think that green is your color.”
Fred frowned. “Green? Where?”
Hermione reached out and ran her hands through his hair. Red or green, she thought, it was still felt wonderful. “I just like you better with red hair, is all.”
His hand caught hers as it fell from his hair. He was struck then by how perfect it felt in his, but he instantly banished the thought. “Hermione,” Fred said, his spare hand reaching into his other pocket, “care to take a walk on the wild side?”
She looked cautiously at the sweets he had pulled out of his pocket. She didn’t detect any Puking Pastilles, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. Not that it mattered anyway, she reminded herself as she took the candies out of Fred’s hand. She wanted to forget her troubles, she wanted to have fun and just be happy for once. As she gestured for Fred to unwrap the sweets with his wand, Hermione gave a small smile and said, “This is fun.”
“Of course it is, would you expect it to be anything else?” Fred said, his eyes meeting Hermione’s. It was an honest question, she could tell, but she had been honest too; she had never expected to actually have this much fun with the Weasley twin.
“Bottoms up,” she said, and put the sweets in her mouth. A few seconds later Fred was laughing gleefully as he observed the new changes in Hermione. Her skin had turned a violent shade of blue, nearly violet, and it reminded him of something but he couldn’t quite say what. Her hair, wild and untameable though it was, had turned orange. Not the orange of Weasley hair, he thought, but legitimately the color of the fruit. To top it all off, though, she gave a hiccup just then and a pair of bubbles floated out of her mouth.
“Tasted a bit like bubblegum,” Hermione said a length. “And what’s so funny then?”
“You,” Fred laughed. “You look like a circus sideshow, Hermione, honestly. But,” he corrected himself, “beautiful all the same.”
Fingering her locks of orange hair, Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but was startled into silence by the voice of Mrs. Weasley echoing over the fields. “Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger! Both of you get inside this minute! I know you two are out there, and dinner’s ready, so you might as well come in.”
She stared off towards the house and moved to get up, but took Fred’s hand when it was offered. She brushed the grass off the bottoms of her shorts and found herself laughing when she saw that even her legs were affected by the combination of sweets. I must look perfectly insane, she thought. What will the others think? She gasped. “Fred! Should we set ourselves right before we go inside? Oh, what will your mother say-”
“Hermione, shh,” Fred said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “George and I do this sort of thing all the time for kicks, don’t worry about it. Besides, it takes a bit to undo, we won’t have the time.” As they began their short walk back to the Burrow, he grinned. “Can you imagine their faces?”
Hermione gave a small laugh. “I’m not sure I want to.”
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she, in return, put her arm easily around his waist. And although this sort of situation was entirely new to Hermione, it seemed as if they had done it a thousand times before. “Hermione, just imagine. It’ll be brilliant.” He continued persuading her all the way to the front door of the house, and by then, she was completely done in. He rested his hand on the doorknob, and he looked questioningly at the girl beside him. Woman, he reminded himself. She was of age, and after all she’d been through with his brother and Harry, it wasn’t right to call her a girl. But she was still so young yet-
She nodded.
At first it was only surprised silence that greeted them in the dining area, but then the air around them exploded into laughter, outraged shrieks (from Mrs. Weasley, no doubt) and loud exclamations of “Completely brilliant!” and “How in Merlin’s name did you get her to do it, Fred?”
As Mrs. Weasley set about scolding Fred for taking advantage of Hermione and trying to set him right, he looked over her shoulder, trying to see Hermione. He could just see her, talking to Ron and Harry by the doorway. She was smiling, looking better than she had since first arriving at the Burrow, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Fred thought, just for a moment, that he’d be glad if it was because of him. She looked toward him suddenly and gave a little wave, grinning at him. He grinned back, and just then he remembered what she looked like; a blueberry. Fred turned his attention back to the scolding he was getting from his mum, but only slightly; the rest of his thoughts were on Hermione, and how pretty she looked when she laughed.