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 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."
