Chapter 23
Fred
Fred was certain, absolutely positive Hermione was their soulmate. If in fact, such a thing existed, she must be. Witnessing her cunning brain in action in the game of cat and mouse she played with Rita confirmed it. In his mind, she was the complete package, brilliant, beautiful, brave, cunning, ruthless, sweet, funny, he could go on for days. Now only one thing stood in their way of making her officially theirs. His stubborn brother, insisting they wait until the ‘perfect time. The main problem being, it had been well over a year and the 'perfect time' had never materialized.
After waiting an appropriate time to make sure the coast was clear, they ducked into the hidden staircase and made their way back to their potions lab, as they had originality intended before being waylaid. Fred went back to his latest batch of charmed candies, finding them ready for wrapping, set a spell that would wrap each one in the shiny paper and drop it neatly in the waiting box. Then he set to work measuring and mixing the next batch, as George sat down and began testing various spells on the ruined, waterlogged spell books he’d claimed in the dungeons.
The relativity mindless nature of his own task allowed his mind to wander, and as it did so often these days, it wandered to Hermione. He thought of waking her up in the dead of the night, her sleepy brown eyes blinking slowly as he came into focus. “Fred?” She whispered, knowing him even in the dim shadows of the room, brain still half asleep. “I’ve got a surprise, come on.” He’d whisper back, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the bed. She was wearing a thin silk camisole and the tiniest silk shorts. Fred could see the outline of her pert breasts through the almost sheer fabric, down to the outline of her nipples.
Hand in hand he led her to another hidden staircase, this one behind a panel painted with swans. The stairs were so steep it was almost a ladder, and ended in a small hatch directly above their heads. He pushed it open and climbed through, reaching down and lifting Hermione out as easily as he would a doll. Spread out on the rooftop was a quilted patchwork blanket surrounded with ;it candles. A small basket with fruit and a bottle of wine sat in the center. Hermione gasped in delight and looked at him with hooded eyes. She glanced at his lips and coyly bit her own plump one, as if daring him. Fred had never, not once in his life turned down a dare. He cupped her face in his hands, leaned down and-
“OY! You’re burning it!” George called out from his table.
Fred snapped to attention, looking down and realizing his candy was a smoldering pile of goo.
“FUCK!” He cursed, vanishing the ruined batch.
“Wanna share where your head was just now?” George asked him with a smirk, looking up from the book he was repairing.
“No.” Fred said petulantly. He knew he was less patient than George, but he was tired to waiting. It was getting harder and harder to let moments with Hermione slip past, to stay friendly when all he wanted to do was kiss her breathless.
“Is it time yet?” He asked suddenly, pinning George with a hard stare.
“No. We haven’t even introduced the idea of triads- we talked about this she’s a muggle-born!”
“So let’s tell her!”
“No, we need to wait, at least until after Sirius’s trial. When there’s less on her plate.” George said sensibly.
Fred groaned loudly and dropped his head down on his table with a loud thunk.
“We can at least bring up the concept.” He mumbled into the tabletop.
“We need to convince her to actually come to dinner. Then we’ll do it.”
“Fine.” Fred pushed off the table and stood.
“What’re you doing?” George asked suspiciously, sensing his twin’s sudden mood shift.
“I’m asking Granger to dinner.” Fred said mulishly, stomping out the door, leaving his bemused twin behind.
Dinner, always a loud affair in the Weasley home, was triple the volume in Grimmauld Place, where several Order Members always dropped in to share the meal and news. Tonight they were joined by Tonks, who chatted animatedly with Ginny and made her laugh by transforming her noise into various amusing shapes. Bill spoke quietly to their father, as their mother waved off help piling food on the table. Harry and Ron were deeply involved in a discussion on the best Quidditch team in the league, while Mundungus Fletcher did his best bundle of rags impression and snored lightly next to Sirius and Lupin. Fred had convinced Hermione to join the rowdy meal, and insisted she sit between him and George.
Fred was waiting for his opening, listening intently to the various conversations around him. The plan was to bring the conversation around to his uncles, then allow it to naturally progress. His unlikely ally turned out to be none other than Alastor Moody, who pulled out an old photograph and passed it to Harry. The photo was a group shot of the original Order members, including Harry’s parents, and their uncles. Moody was giving Harry a guided tour of the picture, including the tragic outcomes of most of it’s occupants.
“Right there are the Longbottoms, Frank and Alice- before their attack, of course they’ve been in St. Mungos for 14 years- That’s Angelica Rosewater, she was killed in a botched raid, Fabian and Gideon Weasley, they died in an ambush trying to save some muggles, poor bastards- budge over, com’on move!” Moody jabbed the photograph with his wand and encouraged the occupants to shuffle around. “Here’s your parents, Harry!”
“Harry, can we see that when you’re done?” George asked lightly.
“Hermione, did you know our uncles were in the first Order?” Fred asked casually, taking a massive bite of his roast.
“I didn’t know you had uncles, actually.” She said softly.
“Sirius, you knew our Uncles Fabian and Giddeon, didn’t you?” George called out.
“Sure- they were a year ahead of us in school but we were in the Auror program together, and the Order. ”
“Of course they were in the Order. It's how they died.” Mrs. Weasley said sharply. “Why so curious all of a sudden?”
“They’re in the photo is all.” Fred shrugged.
“Can’t we ask about our own uncles without getting the third degree?” George mumbled, stabbing his fork forcefully into a potato.
“I remember them as being quite the lady’s men.” Arthur chuckled. “Life of the party, quite the trail of broken hearts. Funny, charming. Bit like you boys, really. Never took anything too seriously.”
“They were good boys.” Alastor said roughly. “Some of my best trainees, when they weren't goofing off.”
“Remus, remember that party, down on Briar Beach, seventh year? The twins led a group wide game of-”
“Sirius, that’s not a story for mixed company.” Lupin interrupted primly, his cheeks pink as he cast his eyes meaningfully at the teens sharing the table. Sirius’s eye’s widened slightly and he cleared his throat. “Fab and Gid were great fun. Good blokes.” He said stiffly.
“Well, they were a bit wild when they were young, but that was before they met Amelia.” Mrs. Weasley sniffed.
“No one is insulting them, Molls. We all know how devoted they were.” Mr. Weasley said, gripping his wife’s hand.
“Who’s Amelia?” Fred asked.
“She was their fiancé’. She disappeared shortly after they died.” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “So many people did.”
“Wait,” Harry said, “Which twin was engaged?”
“Both, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said shortly, taking a bite of roast.
“Fabian and Giedion were soul-bound. They shared a magical core, it’s natural for the soul-bound to love the same person, and form triad. “ Mr. Weasley explained.
“A triad?” Harry repeated.
“Three in a relationship.”
“Some believe such a magical union can increase the power of each member, but there’s no proof of that being factual.” Lupin added , scooping potatoes onto his plate and passing the dish to Sirius.
“Triads are common, then?” Harry asked, his eyes drifting to Fred and George.
“Common enough. I hear it’s not the same for muggles though.” Sirius said.
“Monogamy is more common for muggles. Some have what they call polyamorous relationships with multiple people, but it’s rather taboo.” Hermione supplied. She was pushing her food around on her plate, frowning at her food.
“Is something wrong with your roast, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Hermione smiled brightly at her.
“No, it’s excellent, thank you Mrs. Weasley. I’m just not very hungry tonight.” Her voice had a slight strain to it, her smile too strained. Something’s wrong, Fred thought, glancing at George. His twin caught his eye with a knowing look, he’d caught it too then. So far the table discussion had gone better than he could have hoped. Triad seed, officially planted. She didn’t sound horrified. He mused. She was unusually quiet the rest of the meal, speaking only when asked a question, and disappeared to her room as soon as she finished. Fred couldn’t help but worry he had messed up somehow, what if the idea disgusted her?
Hermione
The next morning, Hermione went strait to the library. She’d worried over the same thing all night, her mind going around in circles even as she tried to scold herself for having bigger things to worry about . Soul-bound twins…were Fred and George like that? Is that why it seemed at times like both of them liked her? Is that why she liked both of them? There were too many variables to consider and two important friendships at stake, so there was only one reasonable course of action. Research. When in doubt, go to the library, She thought, words she lived by.
The library in Grimmauld place was a far cry from the orderly, immaculate haven of the Hogwarts library, but she still loved it. The dark, ancient wooden bookcases fill the walls on both sides of a wide section of the room, filled with numerous books of varying heights, their spines, even coated in dust and worn by time every color imaginable. Some glittered as though coasted in fairy dust, catching the eye and seeming to call out for your touch. Others trembled slightly, sometimes vibrating when your hand brushed near, as if the book itself was anxious for someone to pluck it from the shelf and explore it’s contents. .
One wall was lined with tall arched windows, facing the overgrown back garden, it’s tangled and dying hedges visible through leaded and colored glass. Hermione especially loved curling up on the plush bench she had repaired under those windows. She could (and would) spend an entire afternoon lounging like a cat in the beams of sunlight, reading a book she had plucked from the shelf at random. ‘Random Book’ was a perfect game for days with nothing more pressing to do; she could learn a new skill, study rare toxic plants, or get lost in a romantic tale in another world.
Today, however, she was on a mission. She consulted the guidebook, a rather ingenious magical invention. It resided on a huge podium overlooking the shelves, a massive meter-long tome with a thick black leather cover, ‘Toujours Pur’ and the Family crest embossed in silver on the cover. You needed only to point your wand at the book and speak your desired tome, the massive guide would flip open , pages illuminating the sections you would find your desire. However, years of neglect showed here too, as the charms operating the system were failing, and decades of negligence and decay had books, ledgers, maps and manuscripts mixed up and scattered. She hoped eventually to be the one to repair the charms on the guidebook and have a large hand in bring the library back to it’s former glory. Today, she was just hoping luck was in her favor and it would actually work.
She cast a quick glace around herself to make sure she was alone. The object(s) of her affection were sneaky and so damn quiet when they wanted to be, and she did not want them reading this over her shoulder. It felt like an invasion of privacy, like she was doing something she shouldn’t. She had never let anxiety or guilt stop her from research, however, and she wasn’t going to let it stop her today.
“Books about soul bonds” She whispered to the guide. The guide glowed, and Hermione’s heart swelled with hope. The pages fluttered, and the blue glow intensified, only to sputter out and go silent.
“Damn!” Hermione exclaimed, tucking her wand back into her sleeve. “Old fashioned hunt it is, “ She sighed.
“Mu-istress wants a book?” A craggy voice growled from behind her. Hermione shrieked and jumped back, cursing herself even before she landed for letting Kreature startle her. Her back hit the ledge of the podium and she cried out as her legs buckled and she hit the floor. The picture of grace and poise! She scolded herself.
“Kreature- you startled me, sorry.” She said, climbing to her feet and wincing that the throbbing pain in her back. She looked over at the silent Kreature, and was taken aback by the elf. He was twisting his ears miserably, his huge eyes filled with tears. His mouth was a twisted grimace, and his entire body shook.
“For-forgive Kreature, Mistress, Kreature is sorry, Kreature will put his hands in a hot kettle!” He bawled.
Hermione knelt down, getting to Kreature’s level but keeping her hands back, even as she longed to comfort him she knew he wouldn’t welcome her touch.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Kreature, please. Are you sorry I got hurt? It was my own fault, not yours.” She said in a soft voice.
Kreature paused wrenching his ears and met her eyes.
“Kreature… scared mistress.” He said slowly.
“Startled- but only because I was thinking of something else. Don’t hurt yourself.” She paused, thinking. “It would make me very unhappy to know you hurt yourself.” She added. If felt wrong to use this against him, but the thought of him boiling his hands made it easier.
Kreature frowned, casting his gaze to the side and furrowing his wrinkled brow. “As mistress wishes.” He croaked. “But-Mistress needs a book? Kreature will find.” He twisted his wrinkled face into a sort of smile, blinking back his tears.
“Well, yes, but it’s ok, Kreature I don’t mind looking.” Hermione smiled at him and stood, brushing the dust off the knees of her jeans.
“Kreature will! Mistress, sit! Soul bond books.” He insisted, pulling her with surprising strength to a chair by the massive fireplace and pushing her into it. He then disappeared, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of him through the iron railing on the second level, before he was in front of her again, the stack of books in his frail-looking arms towering above his head.
“Goodness, Kreature! Do be careful!” She cried, reaching out to take some of the load off him. Kreature was faster than her, stacking the books neatly beside her chair and pushing a ratty tufted ottoman under her feet. He stepped back from the overwhelmed girl.
“Kreature is always careful with the books, mistress. Did Kreature do bad, Mistress?”
“No, Kreature- thank you for doing such a good job! I was simply worried about you, that looked very heavy.” Hermione said carefully, worried he would perceive any negativity as a reason to injure himself.
“Kreature is strong. Kreature…can still be a good elf.” He said somberly, disappearing with an echoing crack a moment later. Hermione marveled at the bizarre interaction. She rolled her head to the side of her chair, side-eyeing the stack of books she had been delivered. Sixteen fat, dusty tomes sat waiting for inspection. She huffed out a breath. So much for covert study. She thought wryly. Kreature was just trying to help after all, which was a pleasant, if weird change from him muttering slurs about blood purity whenever she was in the room.
She plucked the first book off the stack and began to read, soon losing herself to the text. It was an autobiography of soul-bound sisters of the Black family from hundreds of years past. From the moment they were born, it was clear that they shared a bond unlike any other. They were inseparable, finishing each other's sentences and always knowing what the other was thinking without a word spoken. Like some other twins I know, She thought wryly.
Their autobiography detailed the countless adventures they embarked on together as they navigated the complexities of sharing a magical core. They had been excellent students at Hogwarts (Slytherin, of course) and eventually became prominent healers specializing in matters of the soul and blood curses. They married an Alchemist, together creating cures and medicines still used today. Hermione was fascinated by the tale, how they supported each other through heartbreaks and triumphs, always standing by each other's side no matter what, how they literately felt each other’s pain or joy, their soul connection a physical link between them. It certainly sounded like the bond Fred and George had, the way they knew each other’s thoughts, worked in tandem without speaking, were seldom far from each other. The only question the book hadn’t answered for her was rather or not it was taboo to ask someone if they had a soul connection. It’s not as if I can say, so boys, do you share a magical core, also, would you both like to date me? She rolled her eyes at the thought. Too brash. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout that echoed off the tall ceilings of the library.
“Hiya, Hermione!” Fred shouted, waving absurdly as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks, rather than the day before.
“Reading.” She said curtly, turning her face back down to her book. She hoped in this one instance, he would leave her alone. She didn’t want him to see the book in her hand or the ridiculous stack of them next to her and think…actually she wasn’t sure what they would think but it felt embarrassing awkward. She jumped when George came up from behind her and dropped down on the arm of her chair, casually leaning over her shoulder to see her book. His hand, as it so often did, drifted to her curls and he twisted a ringlet around his finger as he asked,
“Reading, what exactly?” He said it softly, close to her ear. Hermione shivered and tried to close the book.
“Just a book.” She squeaked, as Fred snatched it from her hand and began thumbing through it.
“A book? Is that what their called? I wondered what all this was.” Fred said glibly, nodding at the library shelves.
“Quite the study session.” George flicked his eyes to the stack beside her and Hermione blushed.
“That was Kreature. He insisted on helping me find a book, and I think brought me everything on the subject.” She said uncomfortably, eyeing Fred paging through the book she had been reading.
“Any particular reason you’re curious about soul-bonds, Granger?” He asked, raising a brow. Hermione couldn't read his expression.
“Um..” Hermione hedged, biting her lower lip. George leaned closer and tucked a curl behind Hermione’s ear, his breath hot against her as he whispered,
“When you could have just asked us.”