fred&hermione - doing just fine on your own

chapter sixteen

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fred's pov.

i had sat on the sofa for some time now, contemplating whether following hermione upstairs to console her was a safe bet. if it was even the right idea. "women really do take the term 'hormonal imbalance' to the next level," george's voice spoke softly in my head. i smiled, i missed that git.

i shook myself awake, even though i hadn't been sleeping, and gathered the motivation in my rather lethargic body to take the dirty coffee cups to the kitchen sink. i rinsed them with hot water and left them to steep in the sink, drying my hands on an old teacloth nearby. i could hear muffled sounds from upstairs, distinctive enough to know it was hermione, but not clear enough to know if she was upset, happy, just bustling around - i don't know. well, i'd assume from our encounter earlier, she wasn't all sunshine and daisies.

i plucked up the courage to venture upstairs and investigate what of many things could be wrong with her. funny that, me telling granger she was a well worthy candidate of gryffindor and me, a 20-year-old wizard who'd been in gryffindor his entire school life, as well as coming from a family with nearly more courage than godrick himself; and now i couldn't even bring myself to go question what was wrong with her. you really have become butter in the palm of her hand, freddie i tutted at myself.

i trudged upstairs to discover that the noises were indeed coming from hermione, and they didn't sound too pleasant now that i was getting closer. she seemed to be being sick again - god, had that witch never drank before? this wasn't a usual reaction to firewhiskey, for anyone. i knocked the door gently, fearing she might just tell me to bugger off.

"'mione?" i called.

"don't come in." she mumbled, spitting.

i gently pried the door open, ignoring her request, peeping my head around the door.

"what did i tell you, freddie?" she yelled, tears swelling in her eyes as she tried to hide her face from me.

"'mione, this is doing none of us no good, if you're sick, you're sick. we're alone and god knows, can hardly go outside without being vulnerable, needing to apparate," i stammered, "and that's dangerous enough, you know what it was like when the death eaters got you, ron and harry before - splinching. so i'll worry about you in the house, because there's not much else i can do." i firmly told her, kneeling down beside her at the toilet bowl.

i brushed her curly hair away from her face, stifling a small smile to make her feel a bit better. she wiped her mouth, shaking her head and flushing the toilet. she closed the lid and sat back gently on top, holding her forearms and fists between her slim legs, with her head down. i sat back, looking up at her.

"penny for your thoughts, granger." i asked.

she stayed silent, although she looked like she was definitely trying to tell me something.

hermione's pov.

i had never felt ill like this. i remember my mum telling me once about these muggle sicknesses, called bugs - where you'd vomit, and feel unwell, and feel tired, maybe that was it. and there's no spell to cure anything like this, just traditional old muggle medicine i couldn't even get my hands on.

"i don't know what's wrong, freddie," i sighed, "mum told me once about these muggle sicknesses called bugs. i think that might be it. i just feel awful," tearing up.

"don't cry," fred placed his warm hand on my knee, caressing it gently with his thumb, "i'm sure there's some kind of spell to fix this?"

"that's the thing," i recalled, "it's a muggle sickness, so there is no spell. nothing that could really help anyway."

"well then, what do we do?"

"i don't know,"

there was silence for a moment, then fred perked up, "i know."

he perked up half-excitedly, rising from his knees and darting out the bathroom door to which i heard him rustling around in the bedroom next door.

i stood up as quickly as i could and pursued all the clatter to find him rummaging around in his luggage for his coat, and watched as he retrieved a rather old, tattered looking book from under his clothes. he crookedly smiled to himself and as he pulled his coat on, i opened my mouth to ask just what he was doing, but before the words escaped, he apparated out of sight with a small crack.

curse you anyway, fred weasley i pouted to myself. they really did drive me mad. i stood sort of half shocked at his rather quick and unexplained disappearance. and then the worry set in, he was alone- in a city he didn't know well, with death eaters crawling every corner. why did he think he was invincible? i felt tears trip my eyes and i sniffed and bit my tongue to hold them back, shaking my head.

i sauntered over slowly to the bed, sitting down and rummaging through the many letters and photos fred had thrown on the bed through his search for whatever was in that old, tattered book that he was so interested in.

my attention span didn't last long, as i soon grew tired of looking at the same few photos that seemed to grow evermore depressing the longer i looked at them. i reached over to the bedside table and switched on the little desk lamp, which gave a warmer glow to the room, bringing me comfort. my eyes grew tired as i placed the photos down by my side, curled up and let my eyes droop shut.

it seemed to be the only thing that passed time during all this- sleeping. and normally, i wasn't a very tired girl. i usually was quite energetic and fought hard to stay awake even when i wasn't, but it seemed to be hard to resist a cosy nap in a big, lonely house like this.

i could only hope that whenever i woke up, fred would be home. wherever that wretched boy was.

a few hours later

hermione's pov.

i awoke to the slight clattering of what i hoped would be fred returning from whatever journey he had decided to pursue. i perked my head up slowly, my eyes tired and still half closed, to notice it was growing dark outside. fred has returned, as i heard his signature clatter of pots and pans downstairs, assuming he was either trying to cook or was looking for something.

i plucked up the energy to venture downstairs and peered in the kitchen door, watching him struggle to stir and mix and boil and maintain two or three steaming, bubbling pots. i tried to hide my giggles as fred wiped the sweat off his brow with a tea towel, but there were somewhat able to be heard and he turned to face me, laughing himself.

"i'm trying, ok?" he assured me, turning around to turn the heat off.
"trying to do what exactly?" i asked, sitting down at the table to continue watching this escapade he had going on.
he was silent as he separated what looked like some kind of thick, vegetable broth into two bowls, "make this, for you." he answered, turning and placing the bowl in front of me.

to be totally honest, it did smell great. fred weasley mightn't have been such the spoiled mummy's boy i thought he was who relied on her to cook three square meals.

"so, who taught you this?" i asked, taking a sip off my spoon- it was delicious.
"that tattered old book you so despise, 'mione- is one of mum's old muggle inspired cookbooks that dad bought her one christmas- she's filled it with old family recipes that i deemed quite fitting to eat when you're sick." he explained, sitting down in front of me with his own bowl.
"you really think so much of me, huh?" i asked, blushing.
"well, mum always said it was best to look after those who look after us. and you do, 'mione, so i did." he explained.
"maybe have to learn a thing or two from this old tattered cookbook then," i suggested, "i think it's worth it."

fred smiled across the table at me, shaking his head as he dug into his soup rather hungrily. i think all that effort had made him rather famished.

we sat comfortably in silence as we ate, and i started to feel a little bit more like myself and the night grew darker.