Lingering Softness

Chapter V

"My wildest dreamings could not foresee lying beside you, with you wanting me."

"Fred. I want to do it. All of it," Hermione said lightly, staring into the hazel eyes of her partner.

"I want to as well," Fred replied, looking down, his freckled cheeks reddening a bit.

The girl smiled at this though, reaching forward with her hand and making him look into her eyes once more.

"But Hermione, Ron...."

"No Fred, there is no Ron. Only you and I."

Fred awoke with a start, the sun streaming into his room. 'What was that?' he thought, sitting up and looking around. A dream. It was all a dream. A dream of what had happened that night in the boy's dormitories. Fred remembered that night oh so well. The smell of her hair, the taste of her body, the feel of her skin, the sight of the act being done. No one had known. No one. It was the perfect affair. Quite amazing that no one found out. Very amazing actually. Then Hermione had to run off with Ron. But Fred couldn't hate Ron; Ron was his younger brother, his only younger brother. Yeah, he could be mean to him at times, but he'd never want to hurt him. And that's why it hurt Fred so much when Hermione married Ron. Then it hurt even more to see Jemma. Jemma with her father's ears, father's smile. Luckily, she had her mother's hair and eyes. Luckily brown hair and brown eyes were dominant over red hair and hazel eyes.

Fred turned around, placing his feet on the soft, tan carpet. He walked over to his bathroom, fumbling with the lock as he pushed it closed behind him. Turning on the shower, he walked over to the medicine cabinet. No one had looked there for anything in ages. Except Fred, to see the last picture that he had of him and Hermione together. It was one day during winter when they snuck off to Hogsmeade together. Both in their winter scarves, hats, coats, and mittens, holding onto each other. He loved that picture, treasured it.

Turning on the shower, he reluctantly stepped into the cold stream of water. Fred shivered, waiting for the water to warm up. God, this stupid shower took forever to heat up. Why did Hermione like muggle things so much? She had told him once before. Oh yes, "Because they reminded her of her childhood." Fred figured she would like using magic so much better. It was just... easy. But Hermione used muggle things most of time. It had bewildered Fred for awhile, until he had decided to ask Hermione himself. And she had answered with the above. Surprised as he was, he listened to some of her advice about muggle things. Like saying they weren't that bad. Fred, truly, thought they really were.

After his shower, he walked down the creaky, white stairs. As he stepped onto the landing, he began hearing dripping noises, taking a step forward, he found out where they were coming from. Slipping his now wet sock off his foot, Fred felt an almost continuous drumming on the top of his head. Looking up, there was no water for a moment, and then a big drop fell into his left eye. "Damn!" he cursed, rubbing his eye with the sleeve of his blue shirt. Shaking his head, he continued down the stairs, glancing out the window. Great, it was pouring. Walking into the kitchen with a sigh, Fred walked toward the old, small, ugly green color refrigerator, taking out a carton of milk. Flipping it open, he tipped it up. But... He missed his mouth. A wave of milk flowed down his chin and his shirt. 'This day just keeps getting better and better.' he thought, glaring at the carton of milk. Closing it and thrusting it back into the fridge, he ran back up stairs, throwing off the shirt he wore and putting on a new one, this one red.

Finally, after about an hour of the day getting worse and worse, Fred exited the apartment building, calling for the Knight Bus. After about five minutes of standing in the pouring rain with nothing but a newspaper, it arrived, and lazily Fred looked at the helper. "You're late," he mumbled, stepping onto the bus, newspaper in hand. Finding a seat that had replaced all the beds, he sat down opening the paper in front of him, trying to read the running print. Twenty minutes later, Fred entered the smoky Leaky Cauldron, exited in the back and entered Diagon Alley. Glancing around the crowd, which was very small, considering the weather, Fred made his way down the cobblestone street, looking at all the buildings and what they had for sale. Finally reaching Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred sullenly entered the building, the door jingling as it opened.

"Oh, you poor boy!" Katie exclaimed as Fred entered. With a sideways glance from the male, however, Katie rolled her eyes and looked back at the inventory list she was looking at. Fred made his way to the back of the store, finding George back there, checking new packages off with a checklist.

"Hey Gred. You're lookin' a bit wet there." George remarked, not looking up from the list, afraid to lose his spot. Fred glared at his brother, the exact same way he had glared at the milk carton, the dresser, the oven, and, well, you get the picture. George glanced up, placing his finger where he had been, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Now don't be too happy today, okay?" he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh shut the hell up, George. I'm not in the mood."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the--"

"I'm warning you George!" Fred said as he pushed open the door to the storage room, throwing his damp paper into the recycling bin then coming back into the room where George was located.

"Katie!" George shouted, slightly randomly, making Fred jump.

"What, George or Fred or whoever you are?" Katie replied, sticking her head through the door from the main store.

"How many Stinging Stickies were we supposed to get this ship?"

"I'll go check." Katie's head disappeared, only to return seconds later. "Three boxes of five-hundred." The woman reported.

"Shit..." George muttered under his breath. "We got five boxes of three-hundred." He slammed the pencil onto the clipboard, rubbing his temple with his left hand.

"George." Katie said, a smirk forming on her lips. "It's the exact same amount, honey. Just more boxes." Katie rolled her eyes and shook her head simultaneously, the door swinging shut as her voice said to a customer, "Is this all?"

"You're so stupid." Fred commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, I'm under pressure!" George glared at his brother.

"Whatever. What do I have to do today?"

"Count those." George demanded, pointing with his pencil to piles and piles of assorted candies. "And sort them. Then count them again and stick them in plastic bags with the candy names on them."

Fred's eyes widened a bit, but George was totally serious. So, Fred sat down and began his long, tiring work.

At six o'clock, after nine long, tedious hours of sorting candy, Fred exited Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and once again called the Knight Bus. The sky had long before cleared up but it was now rather dark. Shivering slightly as the Knight Bus pulled up, Fred stepped on without a word, walking towards the beds. Plopping down on one, he laid down for the twenty minute ride, resting his eyes.

"'Scuse me sir?" A tall boy stood over Fred, poking his forehead. Fred blinked with every finger that made contact to his skull.

"What?" he answered, irritably.

"Your stop." The boy took a step back, Fred standing up and muttering a 'thanks' before stepping into the darkness.

He walked slowly towards his apartment building, opened the door and headed up the stairs. Unlocking his room, he stepped in, locking it behind him. Dead tired, the man walked towards his telephone, pressing the message button. One from mum, one from Ron, and one recorded voice. Nothing exciting at all. And in his book, exciting was receiving a call from Hermione. Sighing, he grabbed the phone book from the wooden desk drawer, opening it at the yellow pages. Fred picked up the phone, glancing at the number every once and awhile while dialing the number.

"Yes. Weasley, Fred. Apartment C12, Complex Wildflower Apartments. Just hit the buzzer and I'll let you in. I'd like a number six and a number three. No wait, two number threes and three number sixes. Yes. That's all. Thanks." After hanging up the telephone, Fred plopped down on his old, beaten up couch, awaiting his food. Twenty of stomach growling and dozing off minutes later, the loud buzzer rang and Fred jumped up to let the poor fellow in. Thanking him for the food and apologizing for the delay in the answer, Fred opened the food. Mmm, delicious. An hour later, Fred climbed into his bed, pulling up the sheets and blankets to his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he almost fell instantly to sleep, the smiling face of Hermione from his dream still clear in his mind.