Smarts and Mischief / Fremione Fanfic

Four.

The next morning, only a few hours later, Hermione woke with a fog over her brain. The fog? The image of the kiss that had taken place in her very bed. The image of Fred comforting her, promising her that he would never let anything or anyone hurt her again. For a while, she didn't move, laying back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling. There was a lot to think about. Fred Weasley. He was the brother of one of her best friends. He was a troublemaker. Hermione herself was a rule follower. She was comfortable that way, though she had ventured out of her comfort zone in the past few years and gradually was becoming more comfortable with the adventurous side of herself that had been buried under the books and exams and essays. Even still, this was almost too much. Wasn't that a line that shouldn't be crossed? And what if Fred had only kissed her because she was upset or because he felt she'd saved his life or maybe a mix of both? And what would Molly say? What about Ron? What about Ginny, who undeniably was one of Hermione's closest female friends? She didn't have many of those, she suddenly realized.

Her thought was interrupted by that exact young redhead popping into her room, causing the brunette to jump just slightly before pulling herself to sit up. "Believe it or not, Ginerva, there's a thing called knocking," she snapped, reaching up to rub her eyes with the palm of her hand to work the sleep out of the corners of her eyes. Crookshanks took the chance of an open door to dart out of the room and likely head outside for a bit of hunting, not that Hermione or anyone else minded at all. She watched him leave as Ginny crossed the room and settled on the edge of the small bed. Though Hermione had been startled by the sudden entry, she wasn't angry. In fact, Ginny's face was a nice change from the constant image of how Fred had looked before he kissed her. It made her able to pull herself back into the words coming from Ginny's mouth now.

"Yeah, well locks also exist," she shot back, a grin pulling at her lips, causing Hermione's eyes to roll as she stretched. "Mum says breakfast is nearly ready. You slept late this morning, wanted to come and check on you." And that sentence warmed her heart. Ginny never had been the most empathetic but Hermione knew, very well, that she cared. There were many things the younger girl cared for. Quidditch, her friends, her family, and almost above all? Harry. Everyone knew and everyone was excited for them. Many of the adults around them had drawn the comparison of Harry and Ginny to James and Lily. The looks, if nothing else, were incredibly similar, almost jarringly so. This was no surprise, of course. Wasn't it a common thing for boys to pick women who reminded them of their mother? Would that be possible for Harry even though he hadn't ever really known his mother? "Anyway. Get up, get dressed. See you downstairs." And just like that, Ginny was gone, back out the door she'd come through and neglecting to close it behind her. Did all of the Weasley's have a proclivity to randomly appearing and disappearing?

Hermione finally pulled herself to her feet, stretched again, and headed to push the door closed, sighing quietly as she did. Even then, however, she didn't turn immediately to get dressed. No, she found herself leaning back against the door and raising her hands to run through her hair slowly. The image was back, Fred's eyes drifting closed as he leaned in, the way it felt to watch him disappear through the door to her room again, the way her heart had beat furiously against her ribs until she had finally fallen asleep. What was it going to be like to eat breakfast with a man who had kissed her and not said anything more than goodnight after the fact? But finally, Hermione shook herself from her thoughts and headed to the small dresser, digging through for a pair of jeans and whatever shirt she grabbed first, not at all paying attention. The clothes were thrown on and she took a few more moments to brush out her hair and tie it back in a french braid, just to get the bushy curls out of her way. Last came her sneakers before she was making her way down the stairs to meet with the family at last. Eyes, without any thought behind it, found Fred's face first, brown meeting brown but quickly flickering down to the smirk across his lips before he turned away though Hermione thought she might have caught a wink.