#lightning era

Merry Christmas! Here is some Fremione fluff that got a little bit away from me.

Written for @hpdestress​. 

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Summary: After a disastrous encounter in Potions leading to a trip to the Hospital Wing, Fred takes Hermione to the kitchens to cheer her up.

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November 13, 1994

Fred turned the corner, making his way back to the Gryffindor common room for his free period while George was in Transfiguration. If he were smart, he’d head to the library to get a head start on his Herbology essay, but he’d promised George he would get a head start on the next product for their Skiving Snackboxes. They were hoping to have a prototype by the end of the year while they still had access to the school’s potion stores, which reminded him that he needed to get a few ingredients, so he turned around to make a quick detour.

However, as Fred turned, he collided with a frizzy-haired figure. He grunted, then quickly brought his hands up to steady whoever had slammed into him. “You should probably watch where you’re—Hermione?”

She looked up at him. “Sorry, Fred,” she said from behind her hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. He took in Hermione’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face—what he could see of it, anyway—and felt a sudden surge of anger toward whoever or whatever had upset her. “What’s happened?”

“I have to go,” she mumbled. She ducked her head again and broke free of his grasp, then continued her run down the hallway.

He stood there for a moment in shock, then shook his head to clear it. “Hermione, wait!” He ran after her, thankful that he had several inches of height on her, which made it easy to catch up.

“I don’t have time to explain. Please just leave me alone,” Hermione said as he pulled up beside her. Or at least, that’s what he thought she said. Her voice sounded weird as if she were speaking with something stuck in her mouth.

“You’re clearly upset. I just want to know what happened, so I know either how to help or who to hex.”

“Don’t hex anyone. Hexing is what got me in this mess.”

“What do you mean hexing—” Fred let out an exasperated sigh and sped up to cut her off.

“’Mione, did someone hex you? And can you please move your hand because I’m having a hard time understanding you?”

“You’re just going to laugh,” she said defensively.

“Why would—I won’t laugh,” he promised. “I swear on my broom.”

She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, then finally moved her hand. Fred’s own eyes widened as he watched Hermione’s teeth grow larger by the second, but he didn’t laugh. If it were anyone else, he honestly might have. But Hermione looked so distraught it just didn’t seem funny. She ducked her head and hid her face behind her hands again, and he mentally shook himself.

“Come on, let’s get you to the Hospital Wing,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to steer her toward a hidden staircase. After a long set of narrow curved stairs, they emerged from behind a tapestry directly across from the Hospital Wing entrance.

“Oh, well, that’s a convenient shortcut,” Hermione lisped.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Fred asked.

She shook her head. “Thank you for not laughing.”

“Well, it’s not funny,” he said simply. “Go. I’ll be here.”

She nodded, then pushed through the giant double doors, and Fred leaned against the wall then slid down to sit on the floor to wait.

After nearly forty minutes, the door creaked open, and Fred scrambled to his feet. “You’re okay,” he said in relief as he took in Hermione’s face.

“Fred, you’re still here,” she said, surprised.

“I said I would be,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were serious,” she countered.

“I was worried,” he admitted. Hermione blushed, and Fred smiled and extended a hand. “Come with me.”

She reflexively took his hand but looked at him with confusion. “I should get back to potions—”

He pulled her back toward the hidden staircase that led back to the dungeons. “You’ve already missed half of it, so why bother?”

She sighed. “Well, where are we going then?”

“You seem like you could use a pick me up,” he said by way of explanation.

“That doesn’t give me any information.”

He tossed a grin over his shoulder and squeezed her hand, which she hadn’t taken back yet—a fact he quite liked. “What? Don’t you trust me, Hermione?”

“I trust you about as far as I could throw you,” she dead-panned, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, threatening a smile.

“I’ll take it.”

They emerged back in the dungeons, and Fred led her down the halls until finally stopping in front of a giant fruit portrait. He dropped her hand, then stepped forward and tickled the pear.

“What are you—? Oh!” She exclaimed as the portrait swung open.

“Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens,” he said, gesturing for her to climb in first.

They climbed through and were instantly greeted by no less than a dozen bustling house-elves asking if they’re like anything.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she whirled around to face Fred. “House-elves work in the kitchens?” she whispered furiously.

Fred nodded. “How else do you think the castle stays clean and our food gets prepared?”

“Magic?”

“Food can’t be created via magic, though. Gamp’s Law—”

“I know about Gamp’s law!” she hissed.

Fred started to think that maybe bringing Hermione down to the kitchens was a bad idea and was about to ask if she wanted to leave when a house-elf in free clothes barreled toward them.

“Hermione Granger!” the elf squeaked.

Hermione turned and looked down. “Hello,” she said carefully. “Uh, how is it that you know who I am?”

“You is a friend of Harry Potter! I is Dobby, miss,” the elf said.

“Oh, Dobby! Yes, Harry told me about you,” Hermione exclaimed. Fred smiled as she crouched down and stuck out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dobby. Do you work down here?”

Dobby stared at her with wide eyes as he gripped her hand. “You is too kind, miss. And yes, Dumbledore gives Dobby a job. He even gives me a paycheck and vacation! So, can Dobby get you and your friend anything?”

“Oh, um—” Hermione looked over her shoulder at Fred, then straightened back up. “Fred, this is Dobby. He’s the house-elf that Harry freed two years ago.”

Fred’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh, wait, you’re the house elf that bewitched that bludger to go after Harry, aren’t you?”

Dobby laughed uncomfortably and bowed his head. “Dobby still feels bad about that, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. I ended up getting quite the workout trying to keep up with it, and Harry’s bones grew back, so no harm done,” Fred said with a mischievous grin.

Dobby relaxed, and Hermione looked at Fred with a surprised, almost smile.

Fred’s smile softened in return, then he turned back to Dobby. “Dobby, do you think we could get two hot chocolates? Hermione’s had a bit of a rough day and could use the pick-me-up.”

Dobby straightened and nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Dobby is happy to.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Dobby was already hurrying off.

“Come on, let’s sit,” Fred said, resting a hand on Hermione’s back to guide her to a small table in the corner. They sat and, within seconds, Dobby appeared again with a plate of cookies and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate complete with cinnamon sticks and marshmallows.

“Let Dobby know if you needs anything else,” Dobby said with a slight nod.

“Thank you. This is wonderful,” Hermione said earnestly, earning a proud grin from Dobby before he hurried off again.

Fred smiled and lifted a mug toward Hermione. “Cheers.”

Hermione hesitated, then lifted her mug to clink with his.

He took a sip, but when she didn’t, he gave her a long look. “What is it?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she blurted out.

“I have my moments,” he teased, then he softened. “I also don’t think I’ve seen you that upset before, and frankly, I don’t like it one bit. So, tell me what happened.”

She frowned and stared into her mug. “It all happened so fast. We were in potions, and Malfoy was making fun of Harry. Ron wasn’t standing up for him—because they still aren’t talking—so I said something. Malfoy was being Malfoy and called me—well, it doesn’t matter—”

“If he called you what I think he called you, then it bloody matters,” Fred said through clenched teeth.

Hermione looked up and smiled sadly. “Malfoy using that word says far more about him than it does me—at least that’s what I tell myself. Anyway, he said what he said, and Harry snapped. He hexed him—”

“As he should have. The slimeball deserves a good hexing.”

She gave him a look.

“Sorry, continue.”

“As I was saying, Harry fired a hex at him, which missed and hit Goyle, and Malfoy fired one back, but also missed and…” She sighed.

“It hit you instead,” Fred finished for her. She nodded. “And where was Snape during all of this?”

“He came over to investigate, and Malfoy spun some story about Harry starting it. Professor Snape looked at Goyle and sent him to the hospital wing, but when Ron pointed out that I’d gotten hit, too, he—” Hermione’s breath hitched, and her eyes filled with tears. “He said he didn’t even notice a difference.”

“He what?” Fred roared, making a few nearby house-elves jump.

“Fred, keep your voice down, please,” Hermione said, her voice small.

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Fred said sheepishly. “I can’t believe he said that to you, though. It was completely uncalled for. Do you want me to slip him a Ton-Tongue-Toffee? Because I will in a heartbeat.”

“You can’t just poison a teacher,” she scolded, but then she smiled. “Thank you for offering, though.”

Fred grinned back, but something felt off. “Your smile is different.”

“Oh, I—” Hermione covered her mouth. “I may have let Madame Pomfrey shrink them a little smaller than before. It’s just—well, I’ve always been a little self-conscious of how big they were. Do they look weird now?”

“No,” Fred said a little too quickly. “I mean, I didn’t think your teeth were too big before—well, before the hex. Obviously, they were too big once you were hexed.” He laughed nervously.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to laugh,” Hermione said, although she sounded slightly amused.

“And I didn’t at the time because you were clearly upset,” he pointed out. “But now you’re back to normal and smiling again, so I feel like I can admit that in retrospect, it was a little funny. Sort of like my beard.”

She laughed. “That was a little funny,” she admitted. “Although you found it funny at the time, too, not just in retrospect.”

“Yes, well, I don’t really take much seriously, do I?” he joked.

She looked at him for a moment. “You have your moments.”

Also on AO3.

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