Hermione woke suddenly, surrounded by pitch black. She was calm though, noticing the gentle movement of the chest behind her, and the way his breathing sounded.
"Fred." She whispered, not able to move as one arm securely pulled her onto his side. "Fred, we fell asleep."
They were currently laying on the library floor. She had remembered they were reading. Then they had decided to simply close their eyes, still sitting on the ground the way they were. Hermione complained it was Midnight and they should return to the Gryffindor tower. Though she was easily persuaded as his embrace encompassed her, the fabric of his maroon long sleeve soft, and safe.
He was most likely flying in a dream.
"Mmm?" Fred groaned from a state of some consciousness.
"Wake up." Hermione whispered turning her head and gently pressing her lips to kiss his cheek. "We lost track of time again."
His arm around her abdomen tightened, pulling her even closer.
"I don't want to-" he mumbled.
"And why not?" Hermione pressed, beginning to run her fingers over his wrist that was against her ribs.
"I want to stay like this forever."
His confession hung in the air, and Hermione didn't dare to respond, rather agreeing with the sentiment behind his words, she let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Okay." She answered after a slight pause.
She could feel him give a little laugh, before kissing her forehead "You're cute."
This moment has occupied her thoughts well after it occurred. Even as professor Binns lectured on, she was not feverishly copying down notes, She didn't even do the extra credit, dreaming of if tonight she could accidentally fall asleep against him again.
It was becoming borderline obsessive the way Fred Weasley played in her thoughts like a spinning montage of everything she desired. His Lips. His Hair. The scent of his jumpers. His brown eyes. His freckled skin and maroon cheeks. His kiss on her temple.
Her thoughts began to grow more provocative, and she quickly banished them to the back of her mind as a tall ginger glided across the classroom toward her. She really shouldn't have been left to her own devices.
Her lashes batted once, before she looked to professor Binn's to notice he hadn't torn his gaze from the open book he was reading from.
As George Weasley leaned down next to her, she turned her head to glare into his mischievous expression. "Granger, a word?" He spoke next to her ear.
"I am in the middle of a class!" She spoke sternly yet as quiet as humanly possible. Was this some sort of karma for her not paying attention?
"Alright, I'll sum it up in four words then; Your lover; Dolores Umbridge."
Her brows creased together in the greatest concern, only beginning to imagine what horrific thing that women had to have done to require George of all people fetching her. "Where is he?"
She got up right then and there, damned if she did gave a damn what people were to say.
Hermione lifted her hand to the dormitory door, lightly tapping her knuckles against it. She heard his voice offer a "come in.", and pushed it open.
"Hello." She spoke, smiling softly as his eyes met hers.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed and smiled in return, though she could tell he was hiding a grimace. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"
"Well. You have a very caring brother so it seems." She glanced to the slightly messy bed where she assumed George slept, noticing the shoes she gave him as a present. "-albeit his cleaning habits, I'd say you're lucky to have him."
"Yes, indeed." Fred replied, catching her smile fade as she peered at him.
"Fred-Can I ask you a question?"
"Yes, my love?"
"What happened?"
"Mmm" He winced slightly. "Well, I suppose I'll just show you." He stood up, and Hermione remained against the doorframe watching in petrified fear. "You know, since I figure you were bound to get me shirtless sooner or later."
She bit her bottom lip at his effort at a flirtatious joke, eyes watching as he began to unbutton his white shirt.
She let out a small gasp, noticing the pain on his face. "let me help." She walked forward, fingers shaking as she moved to unfasten the second button.
She briefly glanced up, cheeks blushing crimson as she caught him grinning at her. "Granger, I know perfectly well how to undress myself."
"Yes well", she glanced back to focus on his shirt. "As you so keenly put, I was bound to get you shirtless sooner or later."
Once she helped him get the front undone, he slipped the fabric off of his shoulders. She closed her eyes shut tight, before gaining the courage and bravery it would take to look for herself. She inhaled, then walked around him. She brought her hand to her mouth in shock as her eyes took in the scarlet letters carved into his skin, taking up the majority of his back.
Blood Traitor
So Scarlet it was-
She stood there in silence for what felt like ages, till his voice interrupted. He brought his chin toward his shoulder, as if trying to see her reaction as she stood behind him. "I know how disappointed you must be, given how attractive you found my back. But really I cannot complain. At least my washboard abs are still in excellent quality for your viewing pleasure..."
Hermione let him trail on, however found no amusement any longer. Her tone continued with a plead of seriousness. "Fred-", she interjected as he went on about the outline of his biceps. She understood better than anyone the extent to which the Weasley twins would use humor to make light of any situation.
As her fingertips placed gently on the side of his abdomen, he finally halted his speech. "You have to tell Dumbledore."
She knew what his response was going to be. "You know I cannot do that, Hermione." He answered, with truth.
She understood. Harry was keeping it a secret. They all were. And her insistence on the matter would never decrease Fred's loyalty or stubbornness. "Alright, then." Though deep down, she wanted Umbridge to suffer as much as he was. She wanted revenge.
He spun back around, bringing his hand to the back of her neck, thumb lightly brushing her jaw. "Hey"
She bravely looked up at him, letting her own fingertips trace absently from his cheekbone to his lips. "Hmm?"
"I will be alright."
She smiled as most as she were able. "Of course."
He brought his lips to hers, and she savored the gentleness of it all, trying to supply any bit of comfort or distraction at the moment from his current pain. Wishing it to be sweet nothing.
She pulled back though, her logical mind taking over. "I am going to fetch some spare cloth form the hospital wing, and I figure essence of dittany. I have some left in my trunk. And I believe if I beg Dean he'll have a spare bit of fire whiskey he can part with."
"Hermione-"
"No, I won't have an objection to it." She gave him a stern look. "Now, lie down on the bed, and do not go anywhere."
He raised his eyebrows at the command. "Yes ma'am".
"I am serious ,Fred. I'll be right back."
The day drifted into evening, George standing by as a sentry to force the remaining seventh year boys who were outside pushing and shoving, to stay with the sixth temporarily.
Hermione lay beside him for hours, watching him as though something terrible would happen if she so much as blinked.
She was currently running her fingers through his hair gently, hoping the gesture fell through to his dreams. Though selfishly it was more for her. To act so caring towards him felt so important. Even if he never remembered or registered this moment, she would remember the two of them, when all the stars aligned, and they had ended up in the same room at the same time.
Exhaustion took over her, and yet, as he fluttered his eyes open, his smile radiated like sunshine. It felt like morning, and she was suddenly awake. He was sunshine.
"Hello." She whispered softly, gazing directly into his eyes. He laid on his stomach, and she was curled up on her side. She continued to run her fingers through his hair.
"Afraid, I'd die if you left my side?" He joked in a teasing fashion.
Though for Hermione it was all too close of a possibility. "No. Though if you did, I'd have a lot to live without."
She wondered if she had ingested some fire whiskey as well, to confess such sappy statements, no matter how honest they were. Or perhaps she was caught in a cloud of lavender haze.
The midnight rain was softly pattering on the roof of the castle, a storm that had began right before dusk.
Oh no. She was falling in love, again.
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"We teachers are rather good at (trying to honor Taylor swift by fitting her album into this chapter) magic, you know."
-Professor McGonagall