Defining Secrets // Ron Weasley

Chapter Nine: Who's To Know What's Real and What's Fake

Fred's POV:

This time, there was no sun. The outside was nothing but a bunch of stormy grey clouds and harsh rains. There was the occasional thunder during the night that would dart a person awake with none during the day. But it was like it didn't have an influence on me at all. Because every time I looked at her, I felt the same. Bubbles of anxiety, a little flush on skin, a quick shift from an empty stomach to butterflies.

Hermione never looked back once. She was hyper fixated on her homework and nothing but her homework. She'd already burnt through a quill with her furious writing and it looked like the next was about to burst, until she took a second to turn the page. She got back to it with a noticeable string of tension I wanted nothing more than to release.

The only part I remembered after that was sitting and staring. Marvelling at how someone so snarky and quick-witted - so easily frustrated and enjoyable readable, could be so beautiful.

"Well I must say I thought better of you, Fred."

My silent daydreaming was purposefully interrupted and my head snapped up. Sat by my side was, an embarrassing millimeter taller and just as confused, George. And he was smirking. That was a bad sign.

"What?" I asked.

"Not telling me you and Hermione were together?" He answered appalled, "how could you? I thought we told each other everything!"

"You letting me know everytime you get a new mole doesn't equate to us telling each other everything."

"True," he shrugged, "but I figured at least the important things. And you and Hermione-"

"Would you shut it?" I barked. Scanning the room to see if anyone had heard George's voice rise, my eyes landed on Hermione again, glad to see she hadn't made any noticeable changes.

"Oooh," George chimed, leaning in to whisper all smugly, "is it a secret?"

"There's no secret to tell. We're just-"

"Canoodling?"

I gave him a second to think as I blinked back at him. "Bad choice of words? Sorry."

The bell rang - another rude interruption, and the break was over. Hermione was already packing up her things, so much for a calm break in the common room, and George didn't look like he would be leaving my side.

"Would you shove off?"

But George still didn't budge. In fact, he did quite the opposite but trapping me in a headlock and rubbing his fist into my head. I retaliated by grabbing his arm and twisting it around, then back so he would have to pull away. George rolled up his sleeves and I was about to prepare for war when Hermione wedged her way in-between us.

"Seriously?" She quipped and raised a brow that only ever made me smirk.

"Could that look you have possibly mean you're so impressed by my fighting skills you wish to recruit me in your magical armed forces?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but I could tell she was fighting back a smile. "Can we meet up later?"

I could tell George had something to input. But just as I was about to reach out and pull his ear, Hermione stopped me. I was way too busy focusing on her hand clutching my arm to feel embarrassed by it. Dangerously, George still chose to hang around. Only at a safer distance.

"Sure," I gulped, nodding, "no problem."

"Here at six pm," she let go, "don't be late."

Thankfully, I had the decency to wait until she left before I leapt at George.