Warring Weasleys

Chapter Six: In a Closet Darkly

Hermione felt awful about George's foot. Once he was well she planned on giving him an especially rare Wizard Card that she'd won in a trade. He was only trying to be helpful, and ended up broken and bloodied. Well, she thought, maybe not exactly bloodied, but in great pain.

She'd left the hospital wing and gathered her parchment and ink from her dorm, then headed for the library. It was prime time for studying, and it was comforting and cozy in her secret study room.

Carefully watching so that no one would see her disappear, she slipped around the shelves and tiptoed over to the hidden door. She almost gasped when she saw Fred standing directly in front of the shelf she needed to use to open the secret compartment. He was reading a book about dragons. Hermione watched him for a few seconds, studying his face as he flipped through the pages. His red hair flamed in the golden light of the many candles flickering about the walls. She'd never noticed how tall he was. Since she hadn't yet reached her full height, she was used to looking up at people, especially boys who seemed to grow a whole foot over the summer.

Now she gauged where her head would reach if she were to lean against him. Just under his shoulder. She imagined herself embracing him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers and the softness of the sweater his mother had made for him bearing the initial, "F" on the chest. He'd probably be really cut, she thought. All that Quidditch playing really builds muscles, and he's a beater – he's got to be strong to whack the bludgers away from...

She thought of Harry. Sweet Harry. Her feelings for Harry ran deep; they'd already been through so much together. But she wasn't sure how he felt about her; he'd never allowed her even a glimpse into his feelings for her, if there were any, beyond friendship. They were friends, plain and simple. She admired him, loved him, even. But staring at Fred Weasley was giving her thoughts and feelings she'd never dared entertain before. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Why was she feeling this way?

Stop thinking so much, Granger, she told herself. Just talk to him.

"Are you going to be a dragon keeper?"

* * *

"We've got to go into the Forbidden Forest," said Harry, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh no we don't," insisted Ron, shaking his head. "No way! I am not going in there. Every time we go in there, I come out sorry. I'm lucky to have come out at all! You're on your own with this one, Harry."

"Come on, Ron," Harry tried.

"Absolutely, completely, totally, uh-uh no way, no. I'm planning on being alive for my next birthday. What would my mom say if I got myself killed?"

Harry surrendered. "All right," he said. "I'll go by myself." That would get him, thought Harry. Ron wouldn't let him go all by himself – would he?

"Good luck!"

Maybe he would. Harry tried to think of another possibility for the vibrating ground. He'd thought it might be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and perhaps he could find clues in the forest, but he wasn't sure he could manage it alone. As Ron started walking back toward the school, Harry chased after him.

"You win. I won't go."

"Harry, it's probably something really simple, like a sprinkler system gone haywire or something. Maybe something's broken underground. Won't be any use going into the forest when the problem's right here."

"I guess so, but why was it following me?"

"I don't know but it's not following you now."

Harry stopped. Ron was right; he didn't feel anything going on under his feet. Strange.

The boys went back into Hogwarts and headed for the dorm so Harry could change for Quidditch practice.

* * *

The sun was setting and darkness settled on the tiny room. Once the light was out, Fred took out his wand and said, "Lumos!" The tip of the wand emitted a soft golden glow, and he wondered if it could be seen from outside the door.

"Careful with that," said Hermione, reading his mind. "Someone might see it."

Fred agreed and extinguished the light, and the two of them stood silently in the darkness.

"It's too dark to read," said Hermione. "At least until the moon is overhead."

"I've got Quidditch tonight. What time is it?"

"It's just after seven."

"I have to get ready in a half hour. Wood's already upset with me, I can't afford to miss a practice."

Fred strained to see Hermione and could only make out her dark form. She was standing fairly close to him, within arm's reach, even though she could have gone over to the chair. He could smell her hair – it was clean and spelled of Hogwart's standard soap. He started thinking about being in the shower. This led to his thinking about being naked, and he became increasingly aware of the fact that he was in a tiny closet with a pretty girl, all alone, in the dark. His mind jumped straight to the next logical thought a teenage boy would have in this situation. He thought of he and Hermione sharing a shower. The idea sparked a tingle as Fred grew excited. Even though it was dark, he turned to face away from Hermione, just in case, and tried to think of Quidditch.

"Why is Wood upset with you? You're a great Beater," said Hermione, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

Fred's knees nearly gave out. He struggled to remember what Hermione had just asked. Something about wood.

"Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is Wood upset? You said he was upset with you," she said, taking her hand away.

If her touch had rendered him a useless mass of quivering jelly, removing it restored Fred to sanity.

"I, I was distracted the past few games. Couldn't concentrate," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask why.

"Why?" she asked.

Fred hesitated. What could he say? Because I can't stop thinking about you? Because my brother and I both want you, only I think I need you far more desperately than he does? Because Quidditch is crap and all I want to do is grab you, kiss you... Fred started. Quidditch is crap? He'd never thought that in his life. Girls could really screw you over sometimes.

"I have to admit," Hermione whispered gently, as if she were holding something back and not sure she wanted to let it go. "I usually went to the games to watch Harry, cheer on the team, but lately my mind hasn't been on the game, either. Of course I'm not in danger of being walloped by a bludger," she laughed meekly.

"Really?" asked Fred, interested. "Not about the bludger, I mean, the game," he stammered. He could feel Hermione smile in the silken darkness.

"Yeah," she continued. "I think I have a...well, a crush on one of the players," she finished. She sighed, as if she'd finally gotten a huge weight off her chest.

Fred gulped. "Not a Slytherin!" he said without thinking.

Instead of a response, Fred felt her hand again, only it wasn't on his shoulder this time.

He gulped again, hard.