The rain poured heavily outside the common room windows. It was an early Saturday morning, and Hermione was already up finishing the remainder of her essay. Over the past week, herself and Fred had grown more accustom to each other's company. They had always known each other, obviously. But they suddenly became rather interested in creating a friendship that had never truly existed before.
In fact, Hermione swore she could almost tell the difference between the two individuals of the dynamic duo.
She was not surprised to find Fred stroll down the dormitory stairs, stifle a yawn, and then sit in the adjacent armchair. "Nice pajamas." He said in a groggy voice, then winked.
Hermione couldn't help but form a small smile. This attention would never be paid by someone like Ron or Harry. They always asked about if they could copy her notes, or would start to complain about Quidditch and the unfair detentions they needn't deserve.
"Where is your other half?" She began casually as he grabbed a pillow to hug.
"Asleep. He snores you know?"
"And you don't?" She dipped her quill back into the ink.
"No. Of course not. Though I haven't gained a written testament from Bill, Charlie, Perc, Ron, or Gin. You should probably inquire from them."
She continued writing, and Fred seemed content in pulling out one of his own books and reading for an assignment that Snape would not allow to be incomplete.
"Is there any chance you know this spell's uses?" Fred asked a while later.
Hermione got up, moved to sit on the arm of the chair, and read his already written work. "I believe that's right. You've just missed it's healing potential."
"How is it you know N.E.W.T level work?" He said calmly and without any real surprise.
"Don't know." She mused, never intentionally reading about that spell yet. "Do you want more help?"
He patted the spot beside him. She stared at it with a sudden fear. The space was small, and for some reason the proximity was intimidating. She would have gladly shoved Ron over to crane over his work, but now the idea seemed daunting.
Nethertheless she sat, took his book from him, and read it silently while he wrote. She'd turn the page, after asking if he was done with it as well. It seemed the nice thing to do; A friendly gesture. But surely he was competent enough to do his own schoolwork. She gathered he must have felt the same; appreciative of their silent coexistence.
Occasionally he'd ask her a question, his voice was felt physically through her as she was now leaning absentmindedly into his side. Every few minutes she'd also notice the warm cozy aroma in the air was the familiar scent of the Burrow.
She hadn't realized how enjoyable that early morning hour had been, until it was gone. Sitting in classes later that week, she felt chilly, and much preferred the side of Fred to lean into, rather than the wooden back of their chairs.
In the corridors she rarely saw them, until one opportunity struck. The pair were standing out of the way of the student traffic, handing out miniature boxes.
"Please, not in the corridors if you must." She began, looking worriedly over her shoulder for a professor.
"Relax Granger." George said nonchalantly.
"Hermione-"
She turned to look up at Fred. "Would you mind meeting me in the Library latter?" He asked.
For whatever reason, she seemed to answer without even considering such. "Yeah, of course. I thought there was a practice though."
Her attention instinctively wandered toward George, who was holding a conversation of few words with a young looking Hufflepuff and shoving something into his hands. "George!" She scorned reprovingly.
"Why are we going to the library?" George added. "The Common Room—"
"You don't have to come. I'd been meaning to work where it's actually quiet." Fred informed his brother.
Though as Hermione showed up to the library, George was there as well.
"Kind to see you here." Hermione greeted.
"I'm eager to research more about potions' time constructs. We only need the nosebleeds to last a few minutes." George had a stack of books that all looked very different from her normal source of material.
Fred nodded his head over to the nearest row of books, and Hermione followed him over. "Not my idea."
Hermione crossed her arms. "You realize, I cannot help you design and build these contraptions. It would be breaking so many rules."
"Like you haven't broken rules before?" He tested, and she was taken aback.
She remembered many nightly prowls with Harry and Ron, illegal brews of poly juice, smuggling dragons out of the castle, drugging Crabbe and Goyle, going back in time to free an ex convict— "I have." She admitted. "But those instances were necessary."
"George will not stop, and he is keen on the idea you help us. I'm keen on the idea rather too."
"Oh, are you?" She asked, rather merry that he had said that.
"You're brilliant, of course I'd be."
"Right, well—". She couldn't possibly help the pair. Though his eyes plead a game of their own. "I'll be there, working on my assignments." She pointed to her usual table. "If you must ask me questions, than I'll try to forget what they're for."
He gave her a smile, that she returned, glancing to her feet momentarily.
For the next half hour, Fred would approach her table, shoving a book in front of her. Theories on how to create different time length potions ranged incredibly. Finally, when he returned with a fresh set of books, he took a seat next to her instead of just leaning on the table as he had been.
"Thank you." He began.
"Yes, alright." She replied. "But I do owe you really. You're a Weasley."
"That's the only reason? Geez Granger, don't throw us any pity parties."
She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. You're friends."
He leaned out of his chair to point to a chapter title. "I'm your friend Granger? Surely five years has gained me more than that noble title." His voice tickled her ear.
She ignored the sudden tingle to her stomach. Surely the sensation was unrelated to the whisper of his voice.
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"It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to (comment your Hogwarts House), live"
-Albus Dumbledore