The First Smooch
1993
His hopes for having a somewhat normal year were completely dashed a month into the school term. Sure, he didn’t mind that classes were undoubtedly going to be affected by a murderer running amok on the school grounds, but he missed his bed dammit. Harry Potter, while a nice bloke with horrible muggle relatives, has proven to be something of a bad luck conduit. Fred huffs in annoyance as a sixth year Ravenclaw brushes past him in order to get a spot in the Great Hall with his friends. Fred spies students chatting as the professors are trying, in vain might he add, to corral the students into refined spaces. His eyes sweep over the masses until he finds the fiery red hair he was looking for. He elbows George and tips his head over to his sister on the other side of the room.
He starts making his way through the crowd, students parting easily for the tall twin, and he frowns at how scared Ginny looks. She’s small, her personality shrinking under the volume of students. Her first year had seen to her being ostracized from her year mates, something that Fred and George had been sure to make up for. After all, he saw the same type of excitement and fire in her that had kept him and George occupied for their first four years. He’s momentarily blocked from her path as a group of giggling girls make their way over to a smaller group of boys. He snorts and waits for them to pass. McGonagall will more likely than not separate them.
His brows lift towards his hairline as a certain bushy-haired witch gently touches Ginny’s shoulder and rubs soothing circles on the little witch’s back. He could see his sister’s expression lighten a little before setting into the same worried frown it was before. Granger’s eyes dart up as Fred plasters a smile on his face, mostly for his sister’s benefit, and she regards him warily.
“Evening ladies, I see the night’s festivities haven’t interrupted some chit-chatting.”
He adjusts his sleeping bag as Granger frowns at him.
“Festivities? That’s what we’re calling it? I feel like a murderer on the loose probably doesn’t warrant the positive connotation of that word.” She deadpans.
Fred looks around the Hall in mock amusement before speaking. “Well, the chatting-”
“General merriment-” George pipes in.
“And little sleepover-”
“Would count as festivities, ladies.” They finish together.
Granger huffs and turns when Fred spies the slight uptick of her lips. Fred grins and shifts so he can throw an arm over Granger’s shoulders while George mirrors him with Ginny. He’s happy to see that the youngest witch is looking less morose at either the presence of her brothers or the banter between the three older ones. Granger stiffens for a second before he can feel her force herself to relax. He rubs his thumbs in comforting circles on her arm, an unconscious movement born from doing the same for Ginny over the years. However, the witch at his side relaxes even more to his surprise, almost sinking into his side. Curious. Curious indeed.
“I say we pitch our metaphorical tents and start a game of exploding snap.” He posits.
Ginny beams, having by far the best luck of any of the Weasley siblings with the game. She nods and sets her sleeping bag down, orienting it in a way that allows for Granger to place hers next to the young witch. Granger sets her bag down primly, pointing her wand at dark fabric and casting a cushioning charm to hers and Ginny’s. His brows raise when he sees how comfortably plush her bag seems, throwing his down and doing the same. He whips out the pack of cards from his muggle hoodie and starts dealing them out. He splits his focus between his sister and the game, not really caring that he’s losing.
After the second round, he glances around the giant room and sees that the professors are still trying, again, in vain, to herd students every which way. Students break from formed groups, often being waylaid by a professor and sent to another area, only to be stopped by a different professor and sent off course again. His gaze slips to Granger, and he’s surprised to see her nervously biting her bottom lip and glancing towards the big doors that would lead to the entrance hall of the castle. She’s wringing her hands subtly under the sleeves of her jacket and Fred hears a particularly loud curse peel from George’s mouth as Ginny giggles at him. He glances back at Granger and sees she didn’t even react, eyes still firmly set on the doors. He reaches out and gently rests a hand atop of one of hers. Her eyes shoot up to his.
“Hey, nothing’s going to happen. We have all the professors here tonight and Dumbledore is also going to be sticking close by.” He murmurs.
She bites her lip again before responding. “I know, but Black got into what’s supposed to be an impregnable school.” She whispers back, turning so most of her shoulder is to Ginny, something he appreciates.
He hums. “I know. But one man, even a crazy one, is no match for all them,” he nods to a frazzled looking McGonagall and a murderous looking Snape, “on top of all of us.” He gestures around the students with his free hand.
She nods and gazes back to the doors. “I have to figure out how he did it. He couldn’t have apparated, so there must be another way in.”
His response is cut off by Dumbledore clapping loudly, no doubt amplified by a charm, and gathering all the students' attention. “Now that most of us have found our sleeping spots, I suggest we wrap up our conversations and hunker down for the night.”
His eyes twinkle, hand raising to wandlessly dim the lights of the room, allowing the enchanted ceiling to provide most of the ambient light in the Hall. Granger robotically gets into her sleeping bag, pointing her wand and murmuring a spell to glue her bag to Ginny’s and then an additional one to increase the room inside the bags. Ginny wordlessly gets into hers and grabs Granger’s hand over the fabric and whispers a quick thanks. George scoots his over so he’s behind their sister, allowing her to turn over and whisper to him. Fred sighs and scootches his own sleeping bag to almost overlap with Grangers and crawls in. He settles on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks about what Granger said. It is odd how Sirius Black was able to get into the castle. He couldn’t very well just walk in, face too polarized in every Daily Profit for the last couple of months. And Granger was right, he couldn’t simply just apparate onto the grounds either. There has to be another explanation for how someone, a famous criminal no less, could get into a highly fortified castle. If only he had his map on him, then he could double check-
“Fred.”
He startles slightly at his name being whispered. He looks over to the witch beside him, now turned to face him. Her eyes are sparkling in the faux starlight of the room, showing how warm brown and emotion-filled they are. Also, she’s much closer than he realized. She must have shuffled in her bag to get closer to him so that no wandering ears could overhear. He turns to face her, almost bumping his nose against her forehead before he can look down. He quickly glances at Ginny, curled impossibly tight into George’s side, his twin on his back with his eyes closed.
“Yeah?” He whispers back when his gaze settles on hers again.
“Do you think he’s gone?”
He hums quietly. “Yeah, I reckon he probably is. No point staying when the whole castle is on high alert.”
She’s nervously biting her lip again. “Don’t you think he’ll come back?”
He sighs and brings an arm out of the bag to rest between them. “Probably. But you can’t think about that right now.”
She’s quiet for a moment before she looks him in the eyes. Her own are slightly wet, her lip trembling before she speaks.
“He will. Come back, that is. He wouldn’t have gone to such lengths if he wasn’t after something. And that something is clearly Harry.” She tries to blink away the tears, only causing them to fall instead.
He acts before he’s even fully thought it out. His free hand pulls the small witch to his chest. She’s clearly surprised, not having expected him to do that, but quickly relaxes into him. He feels the wetness of her tears on his collar bone and the wiggling of her bag as she sneaks a hand out to rest on his ribs. She sniffs, quite sadly, into his shirt and he rubs circles into her back. He lets the wetness grow, the stress of the night getting to her. He breathes in her shampoo, a calming lavender scent, and continues rubbing her back as he whispers to her.
“I know. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, and I’m not even one of Harry Potter’s closest friends.” He feels her huff against him. “But I also know that Black would have to be pretty dumb to try something like this again. And he clearly isn’t that. Desperate, sure, but not dumb. He won’t try anything again so soon.” He sighs against her hair. “And I know that if he does try something again, you and Ron will no doubt be right by Harry’s side to stop it. Just take a breath, he’ll be ok for tonight.”
He adjusts the witch in his arms so she’s more securely against him, ignoring the warm feeling in his stomach as he does so. She sniffs intermittently as he keeps rubbing between her shoulder blades. He can feel her muscles relax even further, allowing even more of her to slump against him, and he releases a deep breath. He gives in to the impulse to kiss the top of her head, reassured by the slackness of her arms that she won’t know he even had such an impulse. He rests his chin atop her head again and blinks back his own unease about the night. His eyes scan over the room quickly, taking in the third year group of boys that contains his other brother. His eyes slide away and he blinks right into the eyeline of Professor McGonagall. He holds his breath, unsure if he’s about to get yelled at or have points taken, when the older witch does something that he’ll occasionally puzzle over for years. She smiles, eyes twinkling so much like Dumbldedore’s that he’s momentarily confused on if this is a dream, before she winks and turns around so that she’s scanning the other students of the Hall.
He releases his breath and unconsciously tightens the grip on the witch in her arms. He closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him, as this day has proven more than too much for his brain to fully process. Merlin, he didn’t think he’d end the night like this.