Chapter 8

Disclaimer: JKR owns everything, and I don't make any money with this story. The idea of the Marriage Law originated at WIKTT, I believe. I'm just borrowing...

a/n: AU since DH.

Hermione woke with a pounding headache. She refused to move or to even open her eyes, hoping the pain would miraculously go away.

“That’s not going to work. Believe me, I’ve been there,” came the amused voice of Fred from beneath her. She was once again using him as her pillow. Hermione just groaned.

“If you let me get up, I’ll get you something for your head,” Fred offered.

Hermione rolled off of him and buried her head in the actual pillows. Why did she have to drink so much the previous night? Why did she have to drink at all?

“I’m never going to touch alcohol again,” she announced.

Fred laughed. “That’s what they all say. Buck up, you didn’t even get sick. You could be feeling a lot worse.” Hermione didn’t deem this worthy of an answer.

He left the room, supposedly to get her the promised remedy for her hangover, and Hermione tried to go back to sleep.

Fred was shaking his head, but grinned, as he entered the kitchen. There he found his disgruntled brother, hanging over a cup of coffee.

“Why, if it isn’t the missing Weasley. Happy New Year, dear brother,” he greeted him.

“Shut the hell up!” came the harsh reply from George.

“What happened? I thought you spent New Years Eve with Alicia?” Fred took a slice of toast and chewed on it.

“I did.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy then? I know you’ve liked her for ages,” Fred asked.

George snorted. “Happy? I would be happy had she been actually there this morning. But no, she left sometime while I was asleep.”

“Ouch!” Fred patted the back of his brother reassuringly and kindly refrained from pointing out that George himself had done this to countless witches in the past. Fred wasn’t innocent by a long shot; however, between the two of them George was definitely the worse player.

“How was the party? I missed most of it,” George asked, keen to change the subject.

“Great. Though Angelina might be slightly mad at you because you didn’t do the fireworks.”

“Oops, I completely forgot about that,” George said, looking slightly guilty.

“I’ll say…”

“Is Hermione still asleep?” George asked.

“Nah, just refusing to leave the bed. She’s having the pleasure of experiencing her first hang-over. Which reminds me, I have to bring her a potion for the headache,” Fred said.

He went to the cabinet above the sink and retrieved a vial filled with a sickly greenish liquid. Fred left his brother to brood over his coffee and went back to his bedroom.

“What took you so long?” a grumpy voice greeted him.

“I was talking to George,” Fred explained, handing Hermione the vial. “Take that in one gulp and I promise you’ll feel better.”

Hermione eyed the vial suspiciously.

“Come on now, bottoms up,” Fred encouraged.

Hermione uncorked the vial and tossed it down. Instantly her nose scrunched up, and she looked up at Fred with watery eyes and a look of utter disgust on her face. Fred was smart enough to keep a straight face.

“What—was—that?” Hermione asked slowly.

“Hang-over potion.” Fred replied innocently.

“I think, next time, I’ll stick with the headache,” Hermione said. Fred laughed and got back into bed beside her.

“The headache is gone though,” Hermione observed. Before she realised what she was doing, she laid her head on Fred’s chest again and hugged the covers closer to them. Then she fell back to sleep.

Fred didn’t move, not wanting to disturb her. He hadn’t missed that she had deliberately snuggled up to him. That was different then cuddling in their sleep. The images of their kisses the other night were still fresh in his mind as well, and Fred was wondering how much of it had been for show or alcohol induced. Had Hermione really wanted to kiss him? It had seemed like it at the time, but now Fred wasn’t sure.

Did he want Hermione to want to kiss him?

Had he not been afraid of waking her, Fred would have screamed in frustration. The situation between them kept getting more complicated and confusing by the minute, and the stupid Marriage Law hadn’t even been passed yet.

Fred didn’t stay in bed for long, because he found that he liked Hermione’s body on top of his a bit too much. He slowly crept out of bed and went to get a shower—a really cold one.

By the time he left the bathroom, Hermione was still asleep and George had gone back into his room as well. Too restless to relax, Fred went downstairs into the closed shop to do some long-overdue paperwork. At least his current state of frustration led him to be productive, Fred surmised and got to work.

A couple of hours later, Hermione came down to find him.

“There you are,” she said upon entering the shop. Fred was sitting at the counter, focusing on the papers which were spread all around him.

“Ah, the dead have finally risen,” Fred replied, looking up from the paperwork. Hermione stuck her tongue out.

“Have you had something to eat yet?” she asked.

“Except a few bites of toast, no,” Fred hurriedly stacked up the papers around him and shoved them haphazardly into a drawer.

“Let’s go, I’m starving,” he announced once he successfully cleared the counter. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her towards the stairs.

“What is it with Weasley boys and food?” Hermione asked.

“I’m a growing boy. I need sustenance,” Fred answered. Hermione just laughed.

They went upstairs and into the kitchen. George still hid in his bedroom, and while they prepared a late lunch together, Fred told Hermione about George and Alicia.

“And she just left during the night? That’s nice,” Hermione commented dryly. Fred snorted. They spent the rest of their time cooking in companionable silence, both of them caught up in their own thoughts.

“I’ll be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow,” Hermione finally said, as if Fred didn’t know already.

“You’re not looking forward to that?!” Fred replied, his words half question half statement.

“Ron and Ginny will be on the train, too. I highly doubt they’ve forgiven me yet, if they’ll ever do. And there’ll be a lot of gossip.”

“You’ll have Harry though.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, “and I will be focused on my N.E.W.T.s anyways. Besides, it’s about time I get out of your hair…”

“Don’t be stupid. I like having you here.”

Hermione looked up from the sauce she had been stirring while they talked. “Really?”

“What do you think?” Fred pulled her away from the stove and around so she would face him.

After doing the book-keeping for the shop voluntarily for three hours straight, Fred had been forced to admit to himself that he was not only physically attracted to Hermione, but that in the short time he had spent with her, he had already come to care for her. This realisation, though glaringly obvious, had come as somewhat of a surprise to him. He certainly hadn’t expected to develop feelings for her beyond the realm of friendship when he had accepted Professor McGonagall’s request to marry Hermione.

Fred wasn’t one for games though—not when it came to relationships anyway—and given their special situation, Fred thought that honesty would be the best policy. Since Hermione was staring open mouthed at him, he though it unlikely she would be answering his question anytime soon. Being at a loss for words himself and finding her opened mouth too inviting to resist, Fred renewed his favourite motto and let his actions speak the truth for him.

He closed the small space between them and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Hermione was responding to him immediately, and for a while they were reduced to their lips and tongues dancing together.

Finally Fred pulled away slightly. He waited until Hermione opened her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll go out with me?” he asked. Hermione laughed.

They were forced to return their attention to their cooking then because the sauce smelled faintly burnt.

George ventured out of his room by late afternoon. The sight of his brother cuddled closely to his girlfriend on their living-room couch did nothing to improve his mood. He was ready to swear off women altogether. He considered returning to his room, but unfortunately the happy couple had heard him enter and looked up.

“Still in a bad mood,” his twin commented, immediately picking up on the vibes George was sending.

“So what?” George snapped, hardly in the mood to appreciate the brotherly bond that connected them and allowed them to intuitively sense each others moods. He let himself fall into an armchair.

He spared the two on the couch a quick glance. Something was different, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The bond worked both ways.

“Happy New Year,” Hermione told him.

“You too,” George told her with little enthusiasm.

“Have you heard from Alicia yet?” Fred asked.

“Let’s not talk about that. Are either of you going to the dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?”

“The New Years dinner Mum has been planning for weeks. Did you forget about it?” Their horrified faces told George that they had. “So are you going?” The living room fell silent.

“Over my dead body. Ron’s just going to shout at me again—or worse,” Fred finally answered, and Hermione nodded her assent.

“That’s what I thought.” George got up with a sigh. “I’d better get ready then. Mum’s never going to forgive me if I stay away, too.”

He left the room. The mood between Hermione and Fred had changed drastically. Whereas they had been relaxed and happy before George had reminded them of the dinner at the Burrow, they now were tense and distinctly unhappy.

“I’m sorry you can’t go to your family dinner because of me,” Hermione said in a small voice.

Fred shook his head in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not your fault?”

“Sorry.” Hermione retreated to the other side of the couch and picked up a random textbook, trying to focus on the words in front of her, though failing miserably due to the tears that burnt in her eyes and blurred her vision.

George soon re-entered the room, now wearing a white dress shirt and slacks. He took on look at Hermione and Fred sitting with stony faces at opposite sides of the couch, noticing the tears in Hermione’s eyes and Fred pressing his lips tightly together, and practically ran for the fireplace. George barely allowed himself time to shout a good-bye before he threw the Floo powder, stepped into the green flames and vanished.

Hermione and Fred remained behind and continued giving each other the silent treatment for almost half an hour. Finally Fred broke and apologized, which caused Hermione to actually shed a few of the tears she had so desperately been trying to hold in. Fred quickly moved to her side of the couch and, not entirely sure how to treat a crying female, kissed her.

This proved to be the right thing to do. Hermione melted into his arms and returned his kiss with interest. Fred pulled her down so she would lie on the couch and covered her body with his. Only when he needed to breathe, he pulled away from the kiss and trailed a path of small kisses down the side of her face towards her neck.

“You know, I just remembered that you owe me a message,” Fred announced in between kisses.

“What?” Hermione chocked out, having difficulty following Fred’s words.

“Well, you did dance with me yesterday,” he started sucking on her collarbone, “which means, I won our bet.”

Hermione needed to take a deep breath before she was able to answer him.

“Who says I actually enjoyed that?”

“Very funny.” He stopped his ministrations on her collarbone and moved up to kiss her again. There wasn’t any room for words until Hermione finally broke the kiss.

“Okay, then.” She suddenly sat up on the couch, pushing Fred up with her. Before Fred somewhat comprehended what she was doing, Hermione had pulled his shirt above his head and threw it out of the way. Then she moved off the couch so he could lie on his stomach. When she straddled his backside, Fred realised that insisting on that massage might not have been a good idea.

Not that he didn’t like her sitting astride his ass or kneading his naked back with her small hands—because he did immensely—but about five seconds into the massage he remembered forcefully how close he had come to loosing all control with her twice already (once in his bedroom at the Burrow, the second time at the party the other day).

The knowledge that he was heading straight for trouble didn’t make him stop Hermione though. He didn’t want to; her hands roaming around his back and neck felt too good. Besides he had won that bet fair and square. So Fred did the only thing any male in his position would have done—he quit thinking and enjoyed himself.

Hermione kneaded his back until every muscle in his back felt like putty underneath her hands. He was incredibly relaxed by then and, therefore, not expecting her next move at all.

She bent forward and whispered into his ear: “Turn around.”

Fred’s eyes shot open. Did she mean…? Before he could think any further about her request, he felt her weight lift from his back, and his body reacted before his mind had a chance to catch up. He found himself lying with his back on the couch, Hermione straddling his lower stomach. She continued to give his chest and arms the same treatment she had given his back.

Fred kept his eyes trained on her face, marvelling in her focused expression. She was concentrating completely on him, and he was fighting hard to keep his control.

Once his muscles were kneaded to her satisfaction, Hermione leaned forward and kissed him slowly and deliberately. Both their eyes fell shut as Hermione explored his mouth with her tongue. Fred raised his hands to her hips and slid them underneath her shirt. He let them roam around her bare back until he reached her bra.

He was about to pull the shirt over her head when the flames in the fireplace suddenly flared up. George appeared in the fireplace, a sour expression on his face. Dinner had obviously not been fun.

Hermione and Fred had ceased moving, but there hadn’t been time to change the rather compromising position they were in.

“Really,” George admonished with a rather wicked grin once he realised what he had just walked in on. “Your bedroom is less than ten feet away.” He exited the living-room quickly. On his way out he called, “Wait until I tell Lee and Angelina …” He let the door fall shut behind him.

Fred and Hermione took one look at each other then burst out laughing. When they were able to breathe normally again, Hermione got off of Fred, and they righted their clothes. The mood was effectively ruined.

“I need to pack my trunk anyways,” Hermione mumbled, embarrassed.

“I should probably go and check with George about dinner.” Fred gave Hermione a quick kiss and went to find his brother.

Hermione started picking up her books that were scattered all over the room, her mind still back on the scene on the couch. It took her a full ten minutes to realize that packing would be so much easier if she were to use her wand. So she did.

George told Fred the details of the family dinner, which had been terribly unpleasant as everybody had noticed Fred and Hermione’s absence, though nobody dared to comment on it. Percy hadn’t been present either.

“I got out of there as fast as I could. By the looks of it, your evening was far more enjoyable than mine,” George ended his account. Fred shoved him, though there was no force behind it.

They met up with Hermione in the kitchen, where both she and Fred had a snack. George was still stuffed. Apparently Mrs. Weasley's cooking had been the only benefit to the whole evening, and since there had barely been any conversation out of fear of saying the wrong thing, everybody had busied themselves with putting food in their stomachs.

The three of them fell into a comfortable conversation, but soon called it a night. Everybody had to get up early the next day. It was time for Hermione to board the Hogwarts Express for the last time, and both twins had promised to accompany her to the platform. They knew how much she was dreading her next encounter with their family.

At night when he listened to Hermione’s even breaths next to him, Fred realized how much he would miss her sleeping beside him. He would miss her. Period. Definitely a first time for him, as he had never been remotely as close to any of his previous girlfriends as he was to Hermione. He wasn’t looking forward to the separation.

Although, Fred had hopes of at least being able to fall asleep in a timely manner when Hermione was far away in Scotland. He counted 3294 cauldron-jumping Snapes that night until he was able to stop thinking about Hermione’s hands massaging his upper body and fell asleep.

a/n: Finally, I have returned from my summer holidays and here's the next chapter. I hope you guys enjoy. Reviews are love.

Thank you to my awesome betas Katia and Joey.