Well Done, Dragon!
*Flashback*
Hermione had barely stepped foot out of the girls’ dormitories with Ginny when Ron ambushed her. “I need to give Harry a message,” he said at the foot of the girls’ stairs. He looked up at Hermione, his eyes practically begging. The brunette sighed and descended the stairs. She sidestepped Ron when she got to the landing and she heard Ginny’s “Hey!” as Ron cut in between them. Hermione turned around and fastened her coat up as she fixed Ron with a glare.
“Why don’t you just talk to him yourself?” she demanded. “I’m not keen on being the middle person, anymore, Ronald. If you need something from Harry or want to tell him something, you need to go find him yourself. Now, leave Ginny and I alone so that we can have a girl’s day.”
Ron crossed his arms. “Hermione, he bloody well cheated and we all know it. I don’t reckon I know what he did or how he did it but we know it! He’s the Chosen One, he must have done something!”
Before Hermione reacted, Ginny lifted her left hand and swatted the backside of her older brother’s head. Ron quickly turned to face his little sister and pushed forward so that their chests almost touched. “Take it back!” the thirteen-year-old witch shouted in her brother’s face. “You’re his best friend, take it back!”
“Piss off, Ginny,” he warned. He glared down his nose at her, his ears reddened from anger. Then he smirked maliciously. You’ll do anything to back him up, won’t you? When are you going to realize, Gin? Harry doesn’t care about us. If he did, he would have put our names in, too! You’re just willing to follow him blindly because you’ve got your little schoolgirl crush on him. How pathetic.”
“How dare you!” Ginny screamed and took out her wand. She was about to say a spell when Hermione stepped in between them. She used her left shoulder to push against Ron away from his sister and with her right hand, she pushed Ginny’s wand arm down.
“Enough!” the brunette shouted. “Seriously, you two, enough! We have bigger problems!”
When she was satisfied that they were far enough apart and weren’t going to hurt each other, she turned to Ron herself and poked a finger into his chest.
“Ronald, just because you’re jealous you weren’t able to somehow cheat the Cup and be in this Tournament doesn’t mean you can be a prick! And you have to admit, if whatever you have to tell Harry is so important that you have to tell him before his first task, you do still care about him. He is our best friend and nothing he has or hasn’t done will change how we feel about him deep down. Right now, he needs our support, especially because people die in this Tournament. I get that you’re angry and that you feel cheated but I’m not going to be the middle person anymore. So, pluck up your courage, go find Harry and tell him whatever you need to say yourself.”
She then took Ginny by the wrist and together, the two girls walked through the common room and exited through the portrait hole. They grabbed some coffee and toast from the Great Hall and had chatted in the grounds for about an hour amongst themselves when Ron had come up to them with Seamus and Dean.
Hermione had to shield her eyes from the sun to look up at her friend. “Yes, Ronald?” she impatiently asked. Ron looked sheepish and shuffled his feet.
“Hermione, I really have to tell him that Hagrid is looking for him. It’s important,” the redheaded wizard finally said. “It’s about his first task and if he doesn’t know, Harry’s going to go in completely blind and he’s not going to be prepared. I was giving a lot of thought to what you said and you’re right, people could die in this Tournament. He has to know.”
Hermione looked from Ron back to Ginny and then to Seamus and Dean. “The whole plan for the tasks is to go in blind with vague hints and figure it out when you get there,” she said after a beat. “What is so dangerous that Harry needs Hagrid’s hint?”
*End of Flashback*
A few days later, it was time for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. The air was electric with excited voices as students, faculty, parents and visiting witches and wizards alike filled into the Quidditch stadium. The ground of the pitch itself had been replaced with rocky crags, boulders and dirt. There was an immense metal hook that stood around 15 metres high secured into the ground. A large and thick chain, weathered, rusted and burned, dragged loosely into a darkened area underneath the stadium, secured to the hook. The Quidditch stadium itself had been transformed too, with banners of each of the Triwizard Champion’s last names flying from their towers and columns. Every few seconds, the names were replaced by faces of the Champions. Cedric, looking stoic. Krum, looking formidable. Fleur, looking fierce. And then Harry, looking… unnerved. Anxious. Almost scared. This was so unfair.
As the crowds of people started to sit down amongst the stands, Hermione looked around her to see who she sat beside. Neville was to her right, Ronald on her left and on the next row upward, Fred and George Weasley sat with Ginny to the left of George. Hermione caught Fred’s gaze and he winked at her once. She blushed and looked down at her noisemaker, suddenly very interested in reading the lettering on the side. Go Potter! In the next moment, the redheaded twin leaned down underneath the wooden beam that separated their rows. Her body warmed knowing he was closer and Hermione internally shrieked. Since when have I ever thought about Fred? She kept facing forward, eyes peeled, searching for Harry maybe.
Then, his voice was in her ear, lips practically brushing against her sensitive skin.
“My guess is it’s duelling. Harry’s going to have rotten luck with that, the only spell he seems to know is Disarming.”
Hermione sucked in a breath. “It’s not duelling,” the younger witch retorted. “They wouldn’t need that chain – or those rocks.”
Fred chuckled and leaned a little closer. This time, his lower lip brushed against her earlobe. He didn’t move his place. “What about another troll?” he suggested next. Hermione’s cheeks warmed. “Harry’s already taken on a troll once with the help of you two. Who’s to say he couldn’t do it again?”
“Not a troll,” Hermione said decisively. “Trolls are far too stupid and that chain is far too thick. It’s something bigger. Something that an experienced witch or wizard could probably manage with a bit of help.”
Fred lowered his voice so that only Hermione could hear him.
“I wonder if you could handle something that big with a bit of help?” he implied before straightening up in his seat to sit properly.
Hermione was sure that she had just died. Since when do I fancy Fred? she demanded of herself. Seriously, Hermione, get a grip on yourself!
The brunette witch cleared her throat and focused her attention back toward the altered pitch and chain. Why were there burn marks on it? She analyzed the people that stood near the darkened entrance where the chain led. The witches and wizards wore special thick white cloaks that looked as charred as the chain. Some had dragon skin sewn onto the backside of the cloaks for protection. Some wore thick gloves. All bore a shimmer on them as well, as if they had been charmed for extra safety. And that’s when Hermione pieced it together.
Harry’s fighting a dragon.
She turned her head quickly and her panicked eyes met Ron’s. He looked pale, almost ill.
He knew. And he hadn’t told her.
Without saying anything, she raised her hand and slapped his upper right arm as hard as she could. Ronald Wealsey visibly winced and recoiled backward. He had seen the punch she had given Malfoy the year before and knew that Hermione, if angry enough, could probably put someone in the hospital wing. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end.
“Ouch, Hermione, bloody hell! What are you on about?” Ron whined as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm with his hand. She hit him once again, with the noisemaker this time and he held up a hand to try and stop her attacks. “Ow, Hermione, get off!”
Fred, George and Ginny’s attentions were diverted downward to where the two fourth years had begun to squabble. Fred and George looked amused, Ginny looked nervous.
“It’s dragons, Ronald. Dragons! And not babies, either, they’re full-grown, I can tell by the amount of protection that the specialists and medi-wizards waiting by the chained entrance are wearing!” Hermione yelled. “You knew that Harry was going up against dragons and you didn’t think to tell me?! Ronald, I will murder you!”
She lifted a hand to swat him again but her wrist was captured by Fred, who had shot his hand past the stand rail. She tried to pull it out of his grip but he wouldn’t let her. She gasped indignantly and pulled again. Nothing. The brunette witch glared up at Fred and still enraged, she pulled one more time.
“Fred, let me go! Seriously! This isn’t a game, Ronald needs payback for what he’s done!” she snapped.
When her glaring stare finally met Fred’s gaze again, the Weasley brother’s face held a look she had never seen before. His lips curled upward in a small smile but his eyes had a dark twinkle. He looked amused and ominous at the same time. Hermione felt that warmth in her body again, although from Fred or anger, she couldn’t tell. He squeezed her wrist a little tighter to make sure he had hold of it. His smile turned into a smirk and he leaned down a little closer. If she had wanted to, she could have counted all of the freckles smattered along his cheeks and nose. She could smell his aftershave. She was being consumed by everything that made up Fred Weasley. Since when?
“I like it when you’re feisty, Granger, but I’d rather you leave my little brother alive, please.” The older Weasley’s words were like a command and Hermione felt the anger dissipate almost immediately. She looked between her best friend and his brother and when she seemed like she wouldn’t hurt Ronald anymore, Fred released her wrist. She looked back Fred, her face held a curious expression, asking him a silent question. What was that all about?
He shook his head once and returned his attention back to the pitch. He didn’t have to read her mind to know what she wanted to know.
“Yes, Hermione,” Ron said at last, taking her attention away from his brother. “It’s dragons. Charlie helped bring them here. He was one of Hogwarts’ connections to get the dragons for the Tournament actually. It’s how I knew. And then, Dean and Seamus and Parvati and everyone that I told you who told me to tell Harry about Hagrid… well, none of them actually told me anything. It was really just me. Trying to tell Harry. Through Hagrid, you see.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You really could have just been straight with him, Ron,” she said after a moment. “Now he’s going up against a dragon all by himself and we didn’t help him!”
Thanks to Hermione’s previous little outburst, whispers and mutterings echoed through the stadium with new information.
“Dragons, someone said the Champions are fighting dragons –“
“How exciting!”
“How terrible!”
“How is Potter going to do it?”
“How are any of them going to do it, they’re only children!”
Hermione hadn’t expected to speak again but she found the words pouring from her mouth before she could stop them. “Ronald, when this is over, you need to fix this with Harry. You need to mend this – if you think Harry would willingly enter his name into that Goblet just to compete in this… Ron, he could die.”
Ronald Weasley audibly gulped and rested his hands on the little wooden beam in front of them that separated their row of the stadium rom the row below.
George decided to speak up. “Some of the dragons that Charlie works with are right nasty stuff. Terrible beasties. Charlie jokes he’s going to get grey hair by the time he’s 30 because of those things! Last year, one of Charlie’s coworkers wasn’t paying attention and he was caught unawares – poor bloke was ripped to shreds!”
“George, don’t say that,” Ginny pleaded. “Harry could get seriously hurt, can we not joke about it?” She looked worried now. Of course she’d be worried, she was in love with Harry.
There was a crackle in the air as Dumbledore emerged from the Champions’ tent and cast a Sonorus charm on his throat. The crowd fell silent. Everyone respected Dumbledore, he had taught most of the magical folk in this stadium.
“Welcome, all of you, to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.” The elder wizard’s voice boomed throughout the stadium. “For those who may not be aware, this is the first time that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been chosen to host the Triwizard Tournament in about 300 years. Therefore, I would like for us all to give a round of applause in thanks to the Ministry of Magic and the Tournament committees and sponsors for allowing Hogwarts to be chosen. This tournament truly is a historic event for our school.”
Hermione fidgeted in her seat as the stadium went wild with applause. She tapped her noisemaker on her knee. “It’s already historic,” she muttered quietly. “They’re actually letting a 14-year-old compete.”
“We are giving the Champions ten minutes to prepare and select their dragons. After that, the first task will begin. The objective of the task will be to retrieve a Golden Egg from the nest in the middle of the pitch. The dragons are very fierce maternal creatures and they will do anything to protect their young. The robes our Champions are wearing are fire-resistant but best be warned. The medi-wizards from St. Mungo’s and specialists will intercede if it looks like the Champions may be in serious danger. Other than that, they are to receive no other outside help. Each Champion will be equipped with their wand and their sharpness of wit. Let the ten-minute clock begin.” The Headmaster released his wand from his neck and his voice stopped echoing around the stadium. Hermione bit her lip.
“I have to go make sure Harry’s okay,” she said softly. “Reassure him that everything’s going to be fine.”
“Hermione, are you mental? You can’t just sneak into the Champions’ tent!” Ron said with a surprised chuckle. “There’s loads of security!”
“Someone has to go and tell him we support him, Ron, our best friend has thought the whole school was against him for the past three weeks. He deserves something!”
Hermione had pushed past Neville with a little apology and slowly made her way towards the Champions’ tent at the end of the pitch. When she came back a few minutes later, she was livid. She explained to the gathered Weasleys and Neville that Rita Skeeter had been inside conducting an interview and she had snapped a picture of her hugging Harry for good luck.
“That viper is probably going to say that I’m snogging Harry in secret now,” she said venomously. “What a witch.” Ginny looked nauseated.
“Did he seem okay, Hermione?” the youngest Weasley asked. “Did he seem scared?”
“I don’t think he’s scared,” Hermione replied, turning around to look up at her friend. She reached out her hand and gave one of Ginny’s a squeeze. “I think he’s just overwhelmed.”
“Did you see what dragon he got?” Fred asked as he and his twin both leaned forward. “I heard one is brutal, the Hungarian Horntail. Horntails are one of the most vicious breeds and they have one of the highest killing records.”
Hermione shivered.
“No – no, I didn’t catch what he had. I tried to join them to pick but Dumbledore noticed me and asked me to leave.”
She turned back around and she felt a gentle touch on the back of her neck. Fred was softly, and almost imperceptibly, massaging the nape of her neck to ease her stress. Ron turned his head and noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unfamiliar for the Weasley family to express their comfort through touch, like hugs or a gentle gesture or squeeze of reassurance. Nothing Fred was doing had raised suspicion and yet, Hermione was melting. She leaned slightly into his touch for another second before forcing herself to pull away. She moved forward to sit on the edge of her seat and watched as Dumbledore announced the order of the Champions.
Cedric would be going first.
They watched as Cedric conjured a dog to distract his dragon so that he could get his Golden Egg. The dragon started to chase the dog until she seemed to change her mind and went for Cedric at the last second, just as he got his egg. He was a little singed but otherwise, no worse for wear. Fleur put her dragon to sleep with a charm (Like Quirrell did with Fluffy, Hermione thought) and managed to get her egg quite quickly. Krum shot his dragon in the eye with a hex and managed to get his egg, although the dragon in her stumbling blindness had trampled some of her real eggs in the nest too.
And then it was Harry’s turn.
The entire pitch was silent as he crept out slowly from the tunnel and he looked around the stadium. For a quick second, he spotted Hermione and the best friends shared a little nod before - WHAM!
Harry’s dragon, the Hungarian Horntail, had clubbed at him with her spiked tail. There were shouts and screams of fear and excitement as Harry scampered around for cover. He looked lost. They watched as the Chosen One ducked behind a large boulder, crouched as low as he could be, while the dragon advanced on him, spewing continuous fire.
“Harry!” Hermione heard Ginny scream amongst the roar of the crowd. “Come on, Harry!” They could see him looking for something, anything to use.
“Your wand, Harry, your wand!” Hermione added, screaming at the top of her lungs. When he didn’t seem to hear her, she screamed again, banging on the wooden railing for emphasis. “Your wand, Harry!”
His head snapped up in her direction and he seemed to hear her over the din. She watched as he took his wand out and yelled something that they couldn’t hear over the deafening shouting of the crowd. The dragon continued to advance, spewing more flame, and then –
Harry’s Firebolt from Sirius appeared and Harry hopped on! He was in flight! The dragon was clearly confused by this and angered at the thought of being bested! She pulled at her chains, snapping in the air at Harry like she was a house cat and he, a pesky fly.
SNAP!
The chain broke. It fell to the ground with a resounding clatter, the metal crash reverberated off the stadium walls. And it was as if, at the same time, the entire stadium realized the dragon was loose. The screaming turned from excited to frantic and some of the visiting witches and wizards began to scramble from their seats. From down below, the medi-wizards and specialists made to mount their brooms to defend the crowds and Harry, if necessary.
But the dragon didn’t come for anyone in the crowd. Her beaded eyes were on Harry and Harry only as he flew away from the Quidditch stadium, luring her away from her Golden Egg. Could he do that?
“Harry!” Hermione screamed in worry! But if he heard her over the roar of the crowds, he didn’t show it and continued to fly until he could no longer be seen. The dragon roared in anger and with a mighty flap of her wings, she attempted to scale over the stadium walls. Her tail knocked into the part of the stands where most of the professors and the Ministry sat and caused a few individuals, Snape and Mr. Malfoy included, to fall off their seats. As the Hogwarts students cheered and laughed at the sight, rising out of their seats to give the dragon a standing ovation, the twins crowed loud and proud.
“Yes! Well done, Dragon!”
Hermione turned in place and swatted Fred’s leg. “Will you stop?” she hissed. “Can we please just take in that Harry is being chased by a live dragon right now and no one is doing anything to stop it?” Fred just laughed.
“You know, George, I reckon that dragon just gave me an idea,” he said to his twin, paying Hermione no mind. George was grinning from ear to ear.
“Me too,” he agreed. “Me too, Freddie.”
After about five minutes, no one had seen the dragon or Harry. They had watched the dragon chase the Chosen One around the turrets of the castle but hadn’t been able to see much more. The crowds had stopped cheering. Dumbledore was speaking to officials from the Ministry and the specialists and the medi-wizards. McGonagall looked worried.
“He didn’t make it,” Ginny whispered from beside her brothers. “Harry didn’t make it.” No one dared to correct her.
A bone-chilling roar echoed from the direction of the castle. The first sound they had heard in over six minutes now. They waited – and waited – and then…
Harry’s form, a small blur on the horizon, popped into view from the castle. A trail of smoke blazed behind him, his Firebolt having caught fire. He looked tired and exhausted as he grinned from ear-to-ear! He had won! He had beaten the dragon!
“Yes!” Hermione screamed, pumping her fist in the air. “Yes, Harry!” The stadium returned to deafening cheers once again as Harry swooped over the edge of the stadium walls and down towards the ground, grabbing the Golden Egg for himself. He had done it! He had completed the first task!
Dumbledore announced that the medi-wizards would now attend to the Champions and thanked all for coming to the first task of this year’s Triwizard Tournament. Rita Skeeter’s enchanted camera and quill snapped and scribbled away from her place in the Champions’ tent.
The crowds poured out of their seats and began the slow descent down the wooden staircases of the bleachers to the ground below. The way that people pushed and shoved along, Hermione ended up being separated from Ron and Ginny and found herself carried through the crowd towards Fred. She reached for him so as not to get lost from someone again and he put a reassuring hand on the small of her back, guiding her down the stairs and protecting her from getting jostled too badly.
When they reached the grounds several meters below, they started up towards the castle together. Fred talked animatedly about the epic night of partying they were about to have at Gryffindor Tower and wondered aloud if any of the seventh years could get them Firewhiskey from the kitchens. Or Hogsmeade. Hermione shook her head and had to laugh at the sixth-year wizard.
“Our friend almost died today and you are going to try to get completely mashed?” she asked when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. This was not the same Fred that she had seen for those few brief moments at the Quidditch stadium. That Fred Weasley had been domineering. This one was playful and funny. She supposed she hadn’t really known much about Fred prior, save for the fact that he was Ron’s older brother. They hadn’t interacted much beyond simple conversations when she would come to visit at the Burrow.
Fred nodded with a grin. “Ah, but it’s because our friend didn’t die that I am going to get completely mashed! Did you see the way he flew back to the egg, Hermione, all proud of himself?” He wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Our little boy is now a man.” This made Hermione laugh again.
They reached the castle and returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Not many had managed to make it back from the stadium yet so after a quick run upstairs to the dormitories to relieve herself of her coat and trainers, Hermione came back downstairs in sock feet, flared jeans that hugged her hips, and her warm, rolled neck sweater and started fluffing the blankets and pillows on the common room sofas and chairs. She added some logs to the fire so that the house-elves wouldn’t have to later and resumed. Amused, Fred placed his hands on the back of the large sofa and leaned forward a little, watching her.
“What are you doing?”
Hermione smiled and wiped at her brow with the back of her hand.
“I am trying to make it presentable for the others when we have our party,” she replied, pausing near the fireplace mantle.
“Have you ever been to one of the Gryffindor parties before? And I mean, not you sitting on the sofa reading while we party but like, being a part of the party?” Hermione shook her head no. Fred continued. “People aren’t going to care what the blankets or pillows look like. This party is a celebration of Gryffindor's pride – of what Harry has done today. And honestly, people are going to be either eating, singing, drinking, or snogging.”
At the mention of snogging, Hermione turned to face Fred. He continued to lean against the sofa, the piece of furniture now a buffer between them. But the spark that she had started to feel around Fred Weasley was growing in the pit of her stomach at his words and had been for the past few weeks. She continued to stay in place against the fireplace mantle but she inclined her head forward a little.
“Well, I don’t know how much fun I’ll have at the party,” she admitted. “I haven’t snogged anyone before.”
Fred raised his left brow again, quizzical. “You really haven’t?” Hermione shook her head and his brow went down. His hands left the back of the sofa and he crossed his arms in front of his chest instead.
“Well,” he said after a pause. “I’m confused. I reckoned you had at least snogged Ron.”
Hermione’s cheeks reddened again. “No – no, Ron and I are just friends. We don’t, um, that is – “
Fred held up a hand to stop her, like he had a few weeks before with their conversation after he saved her from falling.
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Hermione,” he promised. “I didn’t give a girl a kiss until fourth year, actually. So it’s not like you need to compare yourself. It’s in everyone’s own time.” He then put both of his hands into his pockets and Hermione found that her eyes trailed down his arms; Fred had worn a knit jumper up to the stadium but after removing his jacket, he had pushed the sleeves up to the elbows so his toned forearms were now exposed. He still had a slight tan from summers at the Burrow but it only made the freckles he had more pronounced.
“And what about snogging?” she asked.
She stepped a little closer to the sofa now, closer to Fred. She watched his eyes, brown like her own. They skimmed over her from head to toe and she noticed that when he reached the curve of her hips, he paused. Hermione inwardly screamed. She wasn’t used to wanting or receiving male attention in the way that she was getting it from Fred right now. It seemed so foreign. So… forbidden.
Fred swallowed hard in his throat and then he answered her. His eyes had darkened to that unknown glint that he had had in the stadium.
“I started snogging in fourth year, too.” He was keeping details close to his chest. “I enjoyed it.”
Hermione stepped even closer now and her knees touched the edge of the sofa. She was less than metre away from Fred. “And what about shagging?”
Fred laughed deeply in his chest. “Who said anything about shagging?” He walked around the edge of the sofa now and stood almost chest-to-chest with Hermione. “You really are feisty, Granger, you know that? I know I said it earlier but you’re a bit of a minx without even trying to be.”
His words caught Hermione off guard and she stuttered, blinking away her shock. “Wh - what?” she asked. This made Fred laugh again.
“You walk around and you act like you’re some innocent schoolgirl. Sure, you can have a temper and you have your fiery moments, but overall, just a sweet and nice person. You do well in school and you have great friends and you don’t stand out too much. You keep to yourself and your happy life and that’s the way it goes. Then we go to the Quidditch World Cup and we started talking more and I saw you walk around in pajama shorts – never do that around a teenage boy by the way, we’re all animals. Then the Death Eaters come and while George and I are trying to keep Ginny safe, I’m also trying to protect you and you literally ran out of my arms to go and run after Harry with Ron following after you. I had never felt so helpless and scared in my entire life.”
Fred sighed before continuing. “I tried to brush it off. Really, I did. I kept telling myself that you were my little brother’s best friend and that it couldn’t happen even if I wanted it to and then, out of nowhere, you literally fall into my arms a few weeks ago in the pouring rain. Now –“ Fred’s eyes remained that darkened hue. They poured over her, drinking her in again. “Now, I just picture the way you looked the other week as you took your scarf off your neck. You had your head tilted like so,” He tilted his own head slightly to the right to demonstrate. “And I thought for a moment about what it would be like to kiss your neck.”
“You think about me – “ Hermione started but Fred cleared his throat, asking to finish. Hermione stayed quiet. The older wizard continued.
“Then, the ideas change and I picture the way your left side of your lips curl up higher than your right when you smile and how it might feel to kiss you.”
He leaned down so that their foreheads touched. Hermione sucked in air and dared not breathe, her eyes fluttered closed.
What on earth is he doing? she thought. What am I doing? She waited.
“And sometimes,” Fred finally added, the tension between them palpable. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to shag you senseless.”
Hermione felt as though she would faint. The idea of him, being all over her, consuming her. She shivered and her body was covered in delicious goosebumps. “Fred, I had no idea – “
“I had no idea either until you fell into my arms. Now you’re all I think about.”
Hermione opened her eyes. They were both breathing heavily. Fred was looking at her lips.
She stepped backward once. “We can’t.”
“I don’t care,” he replied as he followed.
Another step backward. “We shouldn’t,” she protested. The fire crackled in its fireplace. Fred stepped closer again.
“You feel it though, don’t you?” Fred asked. “You felt it the night you told George and I off for the aging potion, I know you did.” Hermione bit her lower lip and the Weasley brother groaned lightly. She liked the sound. But she had to focus. This couldn’t happen.
“It will hurt their feelings,” she said weakly as a last-ditch excuse. Her brows furrowed together.
“They’ll get over it,” Fred promised. He stepped closer to her again and now she found herself backed against the wall. He raised his left hand up and cradled her cheek. Hermione felt like she couldn’t breathe and her heart raced. Her mouth fell open a little and his thumb traced her lower lip. He smelled of cinnamon and teakwood and Hermione was sure that was her new favourite smell.
“Granger, what are you doing to me?” He was leaning down to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered closed and then –
“The Draught of Despair!” Hermione practically shouted. Her exclamation made Fred jump and then he looked down at her with equal parts of amusement and confusion.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.
“The potion you have to improve on. The one you have detentions for with Snape. How many days have you already done?”
“I’ve done three of the five Saturdays and both Wednesdays,” Fred replied. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to catch his breath. “Why?”
“Get an Outstanding on that Potion and I’ll kiss you,” Hermione said with a small grin. She slipped out from between Fred and the wall. “Like you said, I’m a minx, Fred Weasley. You don’t just get to kiss me. You have to earn it.”
Fred groaned but he was smiling. “You’re on, Granger.” He watched her retreat up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Later that evening, as he hoisted Harry into the air with his brother’s help and cheered for The Chosen One, he caught Hermione admiring him out of the corner of his eye. She was going to be a challenge, alright. But he reckoned that she was going to challenge him in ways he didn’t even know were possible.