I Hate That I Love You (Fred & Hermione)

7|I Hate That I Love You

He was sitting in the Library. Godric, the witch really had changed him.

He was hoping to see her, but his hopes were granted more than he expected. It was morning, and hardly any students were up yet. He noticed her familiar figure walk past the isle he was occupying. He rounded the corner to follow her.

She had disappeared into another row, and when he landed his sights back on her, he was overwhelmed. His chest tightened in the strangest fashion. Because there she was, eyes scanning the binding of books with calculation, her hair pulled messily up, and herself wearing his jumper. He did not know it would have such an affect on him. He had never such butterflies in his stomach before.

"Morning." He announced his presence. She physically jumped, then threw him a startled look.

"I hate you." She teased.

"Granger, my Love, you just hate that you love me."

She shot him a flirtatious look to accompany her crimson cheeks. He bit his lip, attempting to maintain composure as she was just too damn cute. "Very funny, Fred."

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could respond, he was pulling her along with him. They reached the entrance to the kitchens, and Hermione tugged on his arm.

"We aren't supposed to go in there!" She scolded.

"Say's the one who visits almost everyday, little miss house elf suffragette." He laughed.

She dropped her jaw in response, appalled by such a name. "Excuse me?!" She crossed her arms. "And besides, those visits are different. They are purely academic-"

"I am teasing." He assured, before tickling the Pear to open the portrait into the kitchen.

They entered, and immediately elves start to run away from Hermione. "Nooo, please don't free us. We like working!" One shrieked.

"It's a load of rubbish." She huffed. "They only like working, because they've been told they must."

Fred watched the girl concerned over her distressed features. "Dobby, can we get two plates of french toast?" He asked politely as he showed off his new set of socks Harry had gifted him.

Hermione looked up at him with surprise. "How did you-"

"-Know you love french toast? You always love my mum's, so I just reckoned-"He trailed off, and accepted the plates to avoid her expression.

They ate in the kitchens, laughing as Dobby whirled around, and would keep trying to show the other elves his hat or mismatched socks.

"Good morning, Granger..... twin." A voice came, and they looked to see George enter the kitchen. "Sorry to interrupt your date." He continued, grabbing some toast. Hermione choked on her current bite to this.

"What is it?" Fred asked, slightly annoyed, and ignoring his brother's constant attempts to embarrass him.

"I found you on the map. Listen mate, Umbridge is requesting to see us. I don't think it will be good. Something about our Snackboxes."

"Why that Woman!" Hermione expressed.

George looked to her. "Is that-oh dear Merlin!" He said with a look of compete horror. "You're wearing his jumper." He made to high five Fred. "Alright, brother."

Hermione glanced down to her attire, completely having forgot what she was wearing. "When did she want to meet you?" She asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Right after breakfast."

The twins left to go meet Umbridge, and Hermione ran back to the Gryffindor tower to change. She didn't know why, but she had the feeling Ron wouldn't be thrilled to see her wearing his brother's clothes.

She spent the day catching up on homework, as Ron and Harry had went to practice on the Quidditch Pitch. She tapped her quill on her parchment, unable to focus.

She kept thinking about him. It was so strange to be wanting of his attention. She couldn't even define what their flirtations meant. All she knew is being wrapped in his embrace she felt encompassed and whole.

George returned to the common room carrying a stack of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Where is Fred?" Hermione asked, looking up from her parchment.

"He's distracting Umbridge, while I stash our products." He replied, with a slight smirk. "Interesting you'd fancy his whereabouts."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, assuming the fact you recognized it was me, and not my identical half, I'd say that kind of recognition speaks for itself." He sat down across from her. "Not even my mother can tell us apart."

"You are rather different. Your voices are uncommonly contrast. Your mannerisms are, well-different. Honestly anyone can tell you apart." She insisted.

George lifted his chin and spotted Dean and Seamus. "Oi!"

"What?" The pair asked.

"What is my name?" George asked, and Hermione let her face fall in her hands.

"This is ridiculous." She whispered under her breathe.

"Er—"Dean snapped his finger as though trying to recall an answer for a test on the tip of his tongue. "Fred?"

George looked back to Hermione, the widest smirk across his features. "Point proven."

Hermione bit back her amusement, and continued scratching out her assignment.

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"And I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by(remembering to vote and comment:))turning up for the exams."
-George Weasley