Omniculars

Omniculars

Fred Weasley wrinkled his nose and prodded cautiously at the lump of material piled on the bedspread. It was silk and a shocking pink in color, which explained his hesitancy at touching it. It was so feminine. Honestly. His blue eyes traveled past the pink material he finally surmised was a blouse of some sort or--he shuddered--maybe even lingerie. Who knew? Girls were odd creatures. Eventually, his curious gaze settled on the vanity, a large sturdy structure of mahogany with a mirror that returned his look with a saucy wink. He grinned back and trailed his fingers along the dresser top, scattered with a variety of different bottles and brushes and a multitude of girly accessories whose purpose of he had not the slightest idea.

He held up a sparkly string of beads that was attached to a hook with fringe trailing off the side and titled his head, squinting at it. "A belt?" he pondered to himself. "Some absurdly long earring?"

"If you're done examining Parvati's necklace..." An amused voice sounded behind him and Fred whirled.

"Oi! Hermione!" he exclaimed. He looked at the object in his hand. "This is a necklace?" he demanded, disbelief clear on his face.

Hermione uncrossed her arms and walked toward him, nodding. "Parvati goes for the decorative things," she explained wryly. She peered up at him. "So, did you come prepared for this?"

Fred duly held up his school bag, jammed full of books, loose parchment, and a few quills hanging out of pockets, their feathers ruffled. Hermione looked appalled at the state of his supplies. "Fred!" she said in a scandalized voice. Then her eyes narrowed and she pulled out two long, polished wooden sticks. "Trick wands, I presume?" she said disapprovingly. "You won't be needing these." She set them aside.

Groaning, Fred reproached, "Oi, Hermione, how cruel you are! You can't deprive a fellow of a good laugh when he's forced to study for three hours with a girl two years younger and has better marks!"

"At your rate, Ginny will have better marks than you or George."

"Ah, well," said Fred dismissively, looking rather unconcerned about being tutored by Hermione despite having been bemoaning his fate merely seconds ago, "me and Gred, we focus on the light side of things. With this war going on, people need some good jokes." He grinned at her. "And we're jolly good at those!"

"Oh, certainly," agreed Hermione, "but you really ought to be focusing on your N.E.W.T.s. Think of how terribly disappointed your mother will be--"

"She had Percy, and Charlie, and Bill." Fred looked doubtful. "And...Ron. Well, I'm sure Ginny will become prefect. Ron hasn't been living up to some of her expectations either..."

Hermione sniffed. "I gathered. At least he made the Quidditch team." She smiled, and her features softened, creating a rather picturesque effect with the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the window behind her highlighting her face in a halo of golden brown curls. Fred blinked and shook his head.

"Yeah, Mum was real pleased about that."

"He deserved it. He's quite a good Keeper. Anyway," she continued, her eyes lighting up, "I'm fairly pleased with him, myself! He's finally taking the O.W.L.s seriously and I've seen him do a fair bit of studying." She sounded proud. "Harry and I are good influences on him."

Doubtfully, Fred raised an eyebrow at her. "Harry studies?" He dropped the necklace back on the vanity and bit back a smile when Hermione blushed. "Well, he does when I remind him," she said defensively. "But he's a lot on his mind, what with Quidditch and--and the war...Voldemort and the Order." She sounded subdued. "He's so amazing."

Fred was uncomfortable with the serious turn of the conversation. It wasn't him to ponder the mysteries of life or try to save millions from evil. He did what he could, and what he did best was make people laugh. "So," he said abruptly, changing the subject. "Where do you want to go to do this thing?" He motioned at his bag.

Hermione blinked and the sadness in her eyes was gone when she looked back up at him. "The library, of course," she replied as if it were quite obvious. "It's the most sensible place to be, with the quiet tables and all those resources for your Advanced Potions, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic essays to write." She bit her lip and Fred thought that maybe he shouldn't have let Lee tie his tie for him because it seemed to be restricting his ability to swallow properly. "But first..." Hermione whirled around and dashed from the room, calling over her shoulder, "Wait here! I've got to fetch my bag from Harry's room. I'll be back in a moment!"

Left alone, Fred felt the discomfort he'd experienced before Hermione had come into the room sweep over him again. He dropped his bag on the ground, two-thirds of which was littered with magazines, clothes, and other miscellaneous things (most of which Fred was quite certain he didn't want to know, if the title of Teen Witch's cover, How To Magick Yourself Two Cups Larger and Make It Look Natural!, was anything to go by.) Cups? The only cups Fred knew were the ones he drank from and he figured it was safest to leave it at that.

Once again, his insatiable Weasley curiosity took over and he began to prowl the room. One bed and the area around it were impeccable, and he instantly knew that it was Hermione's. She was a neat, orderly person (and an intelligent one too) who wouldn't scatter her possessions all around the room, interfering with her ability to navigate to the door or find the homework that was due next class. But--what was that?

Fred strode to Hermione's four-poster bed and poked at her pillow, feeling slightly guilty. While he wasn't exactly inexperienced (Angelina and Katie and Daisy from Hufflepuff and Veronica from Ravenclaw had seen to that), Fred still wasn't comfortable in fifth-year girls dormitories. Especially seeing that one of the fifth-year girls was the best friend of Harry Potter and the mad not-so-secret crush of his younger brother, Ron. However, even that didn't deter him as he pushed the pillow aside and uncovered a pair of Omniculars.

His eyebrows shot up to his fringe. "And what would Hermione be doing with these under her pillow?" he wondered out loud. She must've been replaying a scene in bed...but then, what could her reason be for hiding them under her pillows? "Unless she had been surprised and hadn't wanted anyone to know what she was looking at." Fred smirked. "Jolly good deduction, Fred. Any more brilliant ideas about stating the obvious?" Unrepentantly, he held the Omniculars to his eyes and replayed the last few minutes he assumed Hermione must have been watching.

A few seconds later, he jerked the Omniculars from his eyes, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide-eyed in horror. "Holy hell!" he cursed. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Harry Potter kissing Draco Malfoy? What in Godric's name...? Fred checked again just to be sure and yep--there they were, the two Seekers for Gryffindor and Slytherin House, respectively, liplocked behind a bleacher stand, still in their Quidditch robes. "Oh Merlin help me, I'm blind..." Fred slung an arm dramatically over his eyes and fell backward on the bed. "It must've been right after that match Saturday," he exclaimed in revelation.

He frowned. Why on earth was Hermione watching this? He replaced the Omniculars to his eyes, planning to watch the following minutes, wondering if perhaps that the Potter-Malfoy snog wasn't what she had been replaying. Sure enough, the following scene was inside the prefect's bathroom. Fred's brow creased. Had Hermione been there the night after the Quidditch match? Because he'd sneaked in to take a bath but he hadn't seen anyone, much to his relief. While the Gryffindor prefects were unlikely to turn him in (Harry and Hermione were the new 5^th year prefects, two friends of his, Vance Rowlatt and Chris Ferr were the 6^th years, and Katie and Alicia were the 7^th years) he was far more doubtful about the other house prefects (Malfoy, especially...)

The bathroom appeared wide and spacious as usual, but empty. Fred watched in interest as, suddenly, the portrait covering the entrance swung open and--

"Fred Weasley!"

Fred flung the Omniculars aside and sat up immediately, staring wide-eyed at the furious girl standing in front of him, arms akimbo.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!" she demanded shrilly. Hermione's brown eyes shot off sparks. "Don't you ever go through my possessions without my permission, Fred Weasley, or I'll owl your mother and you know very well just how that will go!" Her face was flushed. "Off!" she ordered, and Fred hurriedly scrambled off her bed. "Out!" She pointed at the door.

Fred was quick to obey, scooping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder along the way. Hermione marched behind him, her face still red. "I'll still tutor you but you had better be on perfect behavior," she warned him, "or you can explain to the rest of Gryffindor House how you lost fifty points for us!"

He thought it was in his best interest not to speak. Or perform any of the rather funny practical jokes he and George had prepared specially for that afternoon study session. Their goal had been to get a laugh or two out of the Serious, Cleverest Witch in Her Year, Top Marks in All Classes, Perfect Prefect Hermione Granger, whom they were rather fond of, sure, but thought was in need of serious lightening up. George, who was being tutored by a Ravenclaw, had prepared similar tricks but probably hadn't dug himself into a deep, dark, pit from which Fred would need mile-length Rapunzel hair to get himself out of.

That afternoon, admonished constantly by the glares Hermione shot in his direction, Fred was very good about researching and penning his essays. He thanked Hermione politely every time she helped him look up a fact or pointed out a grammatical error. He never once mentioned how much he'd rather be outside, playing Quidditch or making a general nuisance of himself around Angelina who would be sure to laugh before shooing him away. He found himself rather comfortable with Hermione, both of them working hard side-by-side. Eventually, her anger finally cooled enough that she would lean over his shoulder and point out an important fact in his textbook, and once even ruffling his hair and telling him it was much softer than Ron's, then immediately turning red and spouting off a stream of jumbled words about the Grifnhok Goblin Rebellion in 1456.

He found that rather adorable. But then thought about Ron. And returned to his essay, dutifully writing down the random facts Hermione was providing him with. He couldn't help wondering, though, at his sudden understanding of why his little brother was so infatuated. He nibbled pensively on his quill, pulled a face, and spat out a mouthful of ink.

Damn owls.

And Hermione's hair would have to be the exact mix of gold, cinnamon, and sienna that made up the feather of his eagle owl quill, wouldn't it?

~

That night, Hermione lay in bed, long after Lavender and Parvati had drifted off, if their light snores were any indication. Heart pounding with both anticipation and the remnants of the electrifying terror she had experienced when she'd seen Fred with her Omniculars earlier that day, Hermione slowly pulled out said Omniculars and set them against her eyes.

The portrait leading into the prefect's bathroom had just swung open and a khaki-clad leg stepped in, followed by another leg and a tall, slim but muscular frame of a boy on the verge of becoming a man.

The boy looked around furtively, then, after determining no one was in the room, quickly shrugged out of his scarlet Quidditch robes. The gray jumper followed and Hermione's breath hitched when the boy stood in only the khaki breeches of his Quidditch uniform, his upper body bared. His torso was slight but built with definite muscles under that tanned and lightly freckled skin. Hermione itched to stroke her hand down his back, which was exposed to her more fully when he bent over and began unlacing his shoes.

His thatch of spiky red hair reappeared and his shoes were kicked off. She suppressed a little moan when his long fingers deftly unbuttoned his trousers, slid down the zipper and shucked off the breeches completely, leaving him standing clad in only a pair of emerald green boxers with dancing leprechauns scattered across it. Hermione's breathing became rapid and her fingers gripped the Omniculars tightly as the boy slipped off the remaining article of clothing and sank into the welcoming waters of the pool.

Her breath escaped in a little whimper. Hermione's hand fell limply to her side and the Omniculars fell with a soft thud onto her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and whispered, "George."

Wrapped in the invisibility cloak he had taken the liberty of borrowing from Harry (who wouldn't miss it because it would be right back in his trunk by tomorrow morning) Fred muffled a gasp. So that was it.

He'd sneaked into her room about a quarter of an hour ago, his obsession with the Omniculars pestering him so much in the past few hours that he couldn't sleep. Hermione had still been awake, working diligently by candlelight on an Advanced Arithmancy project he knew for certain was due until next week. He'd taken the opportunity to toy with her Omniculars behind the safety of her bedcurtains and under the security of the invisibility cloak. His initial impression was that she clearly had an infatuation with him and while feeling partially violated, had also been slightly excited that she would go to such extreme measures to see him... Ah, if Harry's invisibility cloak could talk, the stories it could tell. A few minutes ago, Hermione had finally crawled into bed, during which Fred had frantically scrambled off, waiting impatiently by her dresser for her to fall asleep so he could take off into the night with her none the wiser. But then she'd pulled out her Omniculars. And he couldn't help himself.

He wanted to see her watch him and view her reaction...

But...

In the dark, Fred gazed in wide-eyed shock at the girl curling into sleep, tucking her precious Omniculars back underneath her pillow.

George?

But...it had been him she'd seen. Because he knew his twin had been tucked comfortably in his girlfriend Alicia's room for the hours in between the end of the Quidditch match and the beginning of dinner, engaged in activities that had caused Alicia's roommates to flee the dormitories, their faces flushed in embarrassment.

She thought he was George?

Well, Fred thought, still stunned, at least she hadn't been watching Ron.