Fred Weasley; one half of the Weasley Twins
Hermione Granger; Brightest witch of her age
She cannot stand him, until he decides he loves her.
"Granger, my Love, you just hate that you love me."
-Fred Weasley
(Ongoing)
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"Hermione?"
She jumped slightly as he placed his hand on her shoulder, taking a seat beside her at the Gryffindor table. "Hmm?" She hummed, swallowing her sip of tea.
He leaned in closer to her, his voice in a low whisper. "Can we talk at some point?"
Hermione looked to him quickly, then scared of his gaze returned her sights to the prophet on the table.
"I've gathered the sense you've been avoiding me."
She shook her head. "No. No I'm not avoiding you. I've just been busy is all."
"Okay." He replied, and she was grateful he didn't press the matter further. Something about that okay was so reassuring, as if the awkwardness that previously existed between them was accepted and everything was as it was.
Though was it? She turned her head to meet his eyes, pulse racing as she did so.
"What?" Fred questioned her look.
She wanted him. She wanted him to admit it too, that just meeting her gaze sent a bolt of electricity through his veins, similar to magic when casting a charm. "Nothing." She spoke softly.
"Alright I have Quidditch, we can talk later, after sixth lesson?"
Hermione smiled bleakly. "Quidditch, right." Her lips turned down as she watched him jog away.
"Something the matter, Hermione?" Dean asked from across the table.
Hermione nodded her head. "Boys, Thomas—boys."
He gave a small chuckle that she raised an eyebrow to. "Sorry. I shouldn't laugh." Dean corrected himself still smirking.
Hermione noticed him glance quickly down to where Ginny was sitting, currently talking to Michael Corner.
Instead of furthering her conversation with Dean, she excused herself to no one's notice, walking towards the entrance hall. She was now torn. Stubbornness determined she should go to her lessons, and avoid a particular red-head. Though she longed to be next to him.
With a frustrated sigh and an eye roll that she was being this ridiculous, she left the entrance hall from the castles front door's heading toward the quidditch pitch.
It was not uncommon that she would watch them practice. The Scarlett robes dancing in the sky did not cease to fly upon her arrival. With an annoyed huff, she threw her book bag beside her on the bench, and waited patiently in the Quidditch stands.
Naturally Fred flew over, and she refused to let her annoyance show.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?"
She smiled furrowing her eyebrows as though his statement confused her. "I just came to watch practice is all."
He gave her a look, knowing quite well it was not the truth. "Alright." He nodded his head. "Jump on, Granger."
"You're practicing, I wouldn't want to be an imposition." They both turned their heads at the sound of Harry's voice, flitting from the center of the pitch.
"Oi, everyone gather round. Great job today. Practice is over, not everyone bothered showing up anyway so we'll cut it short—and we'll meet here tomorrow evening for a scrimmage against Ravenclaw."
Fred looked back at Hermione, out stretching his hand. "You heard him, Hermione. Practice is over."
"You know I hate flying." She replied.
He smirked. "Yes, however, you love me."
She would not let such a statement affect her. That was untill he interlaced his fingers with his own, grabbing her waist with his other hand as he pulled her toward the broom. "Freeed." She whined in disapproval.
"Come on.", he lifted her onto the broom to sit in front of him, holding onto her waist.
"Fred, we have class." Hermione spoke, trying to ignore the way her heart started racing just from him being so close behind her.
"Not for Eons of time." He spoke in her ear, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.
"That is quite the exaggeration."
"I could say something cheeky but I'll refrain." He replied. "Also you're going to want to put your hands farther up the broom."
Hermione listened to his instruction, shifting her hands forward but remained curious of what he was going to say. "No, don't refrain. What was it?"
"Eons of time, because every second with you seems forever."
Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh, though smiled to herself at his words.
She was not smiling however when the broom accelerated however. She shut her eyes tight letting out an instinctual scream.
"You're okay." He chuckled in her ear reassuringly, and her stomach did a flip. Obviously from the acceleration at which her body was enduring.
He grabbed the broom steadying it to a gentler speed, now the air they flew through a light breeze.
"Of course I'm okay. Though I won't be if I'm late to first lesson." Hermione commented.
"We won't be long now." He spoke against her ear.
Hermione waited to respond, noticing his one hand release her waist to move a strand of hair to the other side of her shoulder. Then as she felt the immediate intense sensation of his lips press to the cool skin of her neck, she had to grip the broom to steady herself.
"Fred." She spoke barely audible.
He continued to paint a picture across her skin, and she was quite overwhelmed as the tree line became evidently closer. "Fred!"
They sharply dived, him quickly pulling up to stop the speed at which they were hurtling.
Hermione rolled off the broom, wincing as her back collided with the cold hard ground. She let out a slight moan of pain before opening her eyes to recognize the weight against her.
"Are you okay?" He asked, arms braced on either side of her head, the sun filtering around his reddish brown hair.
She smirked slightly, the pain less significant at the current moment. "I think I'll live."
"I'm sorry—should have realized Snogging and flying don't equate." He mumbled, an embarrassment in his voice.
"Well." Hermione began, laying there, her chest still rising and falling. She bit her lip, maybe subconsciously, though she recognized her action.
"Well?" Fred questioned, with a bit of intrigue.
"We appear to be, no longer flying." She stated, glancing away from his gaze before brave enough to meet it again.
She saw him smirk. "Yes. That is quite true. Ten points to Gryffindor, I reckon for that accurate observation."
"Fred." She laughed with a slight eye roll.
"Hmm?" Her eyes switched from a holding a hint of amusement, to a very serious demanding look that he understood completely. "When do you suppose we'll have that talk-". He was interrupted as her fingers reached up to the front of his quidditch robes, pulling his lips to her own.
He smirked against her lips, pulling back to let out a little laugh. "So no talking?"
She raised an eyebrow before he leaned down sealing their lips once more. "As you so eloquently put, we have Eons of time, Weasley."
<><><><><> "Everyone's up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings" -Taylor Swift
