Fred/Hermione (statute of secrecy)
He’d almost gotten himself killed countless times, and had received Howlers from his mother twice as many times as that, but Fred had never quite feared for his life nor eardrums quite as much as he did now, sitting on his sofa after having been pushed there by a surprisingly strong hand attached to one Miss Hermione Granger.
She’d Floo’d into his house without warning though she wasn’t an entirely unexpected sight. Her presence in his life was familiar; she’d always been close to his family, almost a second sister.
Almost.
Truth be told, it was harder and harder to see her as his youngest brother's best friend, the years since school having worked their own sort of magic on her. She’d always been pretty but now she was ravishing. Moreish. He wanted a taste — a big one.
Watching her work a pattern in his rug while she half-shouted, half-lectured at him was only furthering the desire.
He deserved her shouting. He’d properly bunged it up this time, his latest communication invention having inadvertently picked up the signal from the Muggle telephone lines and sent both worlds into mass confusion. It had been all over the news, Muggle and Magical, and he was facing severe penalties for it.
Hermione wasn’t a barrister but she was specialized in Muggle and Magical relations, and as he watched her passion build, hands gesturing at him and then the room at large, he thought perhaps she’d find a way to defend him despite lacking the credentials.
But love of lecturing aside, her immediate and fiery presence in his flat only minutes after his summons to appear before the Wizengamot came through was intriguing. He’d felt her eyes on him throughout the years, exasperated and bossy in their youth but lately…something sharper. Warmer.
He’d stopped listening to the words of her argument minutes ago, not really needing to hear what he already knew, but now he was done listening to her shout. There was something much more important than his potential imprisonment or banishment to explore.
“Hermione,” he said, cutting her off.
She froze, hands in the air and mouth forming her final word, then processed his interruption and glared.
“This is serious, Fred,” she began, evidently expecting his interjection to be placating. “The consequences for breaking the Statute of Secrecy are…”
He nodded, pushing to his feet. Her eyes followed his, words fading on their own this time.
“I know,” he assured her. “You’ve done an excellent job explaining them to me.”
She exhaled. “Good. Because you have to approach this from a place of understanding and—”
His hands slipped up to cup her cheeks. She froze again, eyes going wide.
He was an inventor, yes, but he felt fairly confident he wasn’t inventing the way her breath hitched nor the way her eyes darted damningly to his lips.
“I think I’m beginning to understand.” She was a clever girl, but he wasn’t a fool. He saw the potential for things; fun things, new things. Useful, delightful, joy-sparking things.
“It’s clear to me,” he continued, voice soft, “that after you save my arse in court, I’m going to take you to dinner.”
Her throat tightened on a swallow, wide-eyes searching his. He gave her a chance to deflect the offer. She didn’t and his heart soared.
“And then?” she asked, voice only slightly wobbly.
He gave her a lopsided grin. High achiever, this one.
“And then…” He stroked his thumb along her cheek, fingers sliding back into her curls. “Perhaps I’ll have a turn showing you all the things I’m an expert in.”