Chiquidmaster
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She knew that Fred had walked in before she even looked up. There was a sudden hush followed by a flurry of giggles and whispers suddenly sweeping the classroom, serving in stark contrast to the usual bustle of lunchtime. As she lifted her gaze from the papers in front of her, his eyes locked with hers and she felt a faint flutter in her belly as a wry grin twisted his lips.
“Come on now,” she chastised the students, trying, with some effort, to draw their attention, “finish eating your lunches and then we can get to work on our craft projects with Mr. Fred.”
It took several moments, but the children eventually turned back to their food, sitting in groups around the room and chattering excitedly as they ate.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Fred greeted her, having made his way to the front of the class to give her a hug. His arms snaked around her waist as he squeezed her gently. He smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, tinged ever so slightly with gunpowder. It was a pleasant combination, to say the least.
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*A Fremione holiday rom-com*
Hermione had just sighed and picked her quill up again when the front door of the apothecary suddenly flew open, smacking the bell above it violently and letting in fat snowflakes, a gust of frigid wind, and a rather frazzled looking Fred Weasley.
“Merlin above, shut that!” she cried, desperately clutching at several sheets of parchment on the counter that were threatening to take flight.
The door closed almost immediately with a rather reserved snick considering the chaos it had admitted, at which point Hermione exhaled in relief and began restacking everything.
Once she had it back in some semblance of order, she pushed a few wayward curls out of her eyes and looked up at Fred. Annoyance turned to apprehension as she read the harried expression on his usually cheerful face; he looked about ready to be sick on his shoes.
She was just about to ask what was wrong when Fred opened his mouth and blurted out a series of words that made not one single iota of sense.
“I need you to marry me.”
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Fred hummed inquisitively, still toying with her senses like a cat batting at a feather. “There is one part of this that I haven’t been able to suss out, though.”
“And what’s that, brother mine?”
“What exactly her plan was if we were both here when she showed up.”
Hermione froze and met George’s eyes as he comprehended what his twin had just indirectly told him; that she hadn’t gone there specifically for Fred. Her cheeks heated and it felt like her whole body flushed, but she didn’t deny it. She’d told herself before she left her flat that she wouldn’t lie to them, and saying that she didn’t want them both would be just that: a lie.
“Is that true, Hermione?” George asked as he rounded the chair and sauntered to stand in front of her. He reached out and placed a knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze again. “Did you come here planning to fuck us both?”
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This story is holiday-themed in the way that La Croix is fruit-flavored.
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It was strange, if anyone would have asked her a few years ago where she saw herself after her time at Hogwarts, ‘in an apartment with George Weasley, trying to get his shop back up and running’ certainly wouldn’t have been her answer, and yet here they were.
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Summary
Hermione is afflicted by a curse. Her hyper-attuned senses mean that the entire world overwhelms her. She returns to Hogwarts in the hope that it can be the haven she needs. But she finds that it provides far more than she ever expected.