Whoever said that revenge is sweet obviously hadn’t been on the receiving end of Hermione Granger’s ire. If they had been, Fred was convinced that they’d have found nothing at all sweet about being the victim of her revenge. She was ruthless, focused, and downright scary. She was also too bloody creative and knew exactly how to exploit weaknesses, whether it was an opponent in a debate or a boyfriend foolish enough to put his large foot in his even bigger mouth. If anything, she was being even more ruthless with Fred than he’d ever seen her be with anyone else.
It wasn’t fair at all. One mistake had become a major ordeal due to his inability to not make things worse with stammering and attempts at explaining. It would have helped if he’d realized his error before it had been made, instead of realizing after he’d said it how she’d taken it when he’d seen that hurt look on her face quickly followed by the cool frosty look he knew meant Big Trouble. Just the one misunderstanding, as he refused to see it as anything more, last week, and she was torturing him now---and bloody well enjoying it.
The worst part of the entire mess was that he couldn’t really blame anyone but himself. It was all his fault, much as he loathed to admit it, and he realized that now, even if he’d not really understood it when it happened. But she wouldn’t even talk to him so he could explain. It had been six days and some odd hours since she’d coolly informed him that she had a headache and an early day at work, so he needed to leave. She’d avoided his kiss goodnight, had refused to let him continue trying to explain, and had basically shut him out as she tended to do most people. He’d never realized just how horrible it was to be on the outside of that shell she kept around herself when you wanted back in, as their arguments in the past had never reached such a level before.
She was overreacting, of course; far more than the other times this issue had come up in the past five months. However, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d really messed up the best thing to ever happen to him this time. Maybe one more time had pushed it from being tolerable to being more than enough. No, he refused to accept that she’d just toss away nearly sixteen years of friendship, of varying degrees but still friendship in his mind, and especially not the last few months, which had taken their relationship to another level.
It had been a surprise to both of them when they’d become closer friends, possibly due to proximity since they were the only two of their group, so to speak, who lived in Hogsmeade proper. After George and Angelina got engaged, Fred had decided to move to Hogsmeade to run their second store, and Hermione had already lived there, so it was natural for them to become better acquainted. Whatever the reason, they’d taken to having meals together and long conversations about the silliest of things to the most serious. For six years, they’d gone from acquaintances that were friendly to being the best of friends. He complained to her about his bad dates, she muttered to him about being an old maid with too many cats, and their friendship had become the most important relationship to him outside of his bond with George.
When an argument five months ago about whether tuna should or should not have pickles (a really silly debate in his opinion since everyone knew pickles were the best) had resulted in him pressing her against her fridge-freezer and kissing her until they were both panting and staring at each with wide eyes before they’d kissed again with just as much passion, they’d both been shocked. It was unexpected, but maybe not that much so since he’d fancied her briefly back before the war, before she was Ron’s Girl, before she was old enough for him to be able to think such things.
In the weeks since, they’d begun to date, spending time in Muggle areas and just being together in much the same way as they had for years, only now it was even better because there was kissing and groping and the best sex he'd ever had. There was also snogging for hours that made him feel like a randy teenager again instead of a man nearing his thirtieth birthday far too soon. It was everything he’d sort of secretly wanted for years but never felt able to admit to himself because they were just friends or she didn’t feel that way or it would mess things up or a dozen different excuses he’d always given himself when his thoughts drifted to inappropriate areas.
There shouldn’t really be any problems now, not like there’d been when they were teenagers. After all, she was definitely old enough now, and she’d not been Ron’s Girl in many years, though, of course, she’d deny that and, if anything, say he’d been Hermione’s Boy since she certainly wasn’t owned by anyone. He shook his head slightly and the slight smile that crossed his lips when he was able to imagine her perfectly telling him just that in the prim, swotty voice that had the annoying habit of causing his trousers to become tight, fell into the frown that had been there for days now.
The problems were in his head, or so she claimed. While she was quite brilliant, he knew he was just as bright, if not more so in a few areas, which irritated her but he also knew she found appealing. So, if he was so smart, why did he feel this need to continually bugger up a relationship that made him feel happy, truly happy, for the first time in, well, ever? Normally, he’d talk to George or Hermione about this sort of thing, but the former had no idea and the latter was out of question due to the issue with the former being completely unaware of everything. Had George known just had badly Fred had buggered things up, Fred was confident he’d have sided with Hermione and probably hexed Fred for her.
Which meant, basically, that he was well and truly fucked, because she’d reached a breaking point, and he’d realized he was an arse. But it was all bloody hopeless when he couldn’t apologize since she wasn’t speaking to him, and now they were at this stupid bloody party with her acting as if he were some stranger instead of the man that she’d been writhing against just last weekend while she pranced around in an indecently short skirt that had every straight man in the place ogling her arse. She never wore clothes like that, clingy tops that showed off cleavage these blokes didn’t have the right to be appreciating and that ridiculous flimsy skirt that seemed to caress her firm arse in a way that had his palms itching to touch, which he figured meant every man staring felt that same itch, the bloody bastards.
She’d caught him staring once after she arrived and she’d smirked, the evil bint. It was revenge, plain and simple. He knew it, and she knew that he knew it. That’s why she just happened to bump into him and flash a cool smile even as her breasts had pressed against his chest and why she’d dropped a napkin so she could bend over to pick it up and flash him a view of skimpy black knickers and lace topped stockings and a bloody garter belt that he’d not even known she owned. There was always that cool smile after; the one that had his cock throbbing far more than it bloody well should when she was deliberately torturing him in a room full of business associates and neighbors. Thank god his family wasn’t there or she’d have probably gone without knickers at all. He groaned at that thought and tightened his grip on his glass as he watched her make her way around the room, schmoozing and charming everyone she spoke to in that infuriating way that never quite made sense considering she was blunt, opinionated, and wasn’t very good socially.
Revenge was just a low blow. It was a blatant ‘you fucked up so now you’re forced to see what you’ll never have’, a reminder of what he could have had if he’d not been dealing with his own insecurities and worries. It wasn’t fair! She should understand, probably would if she’d just stop hurting from something he’d never intended and actually listen to him. The only good to come out of all this was the thinking he’d done during the time he’d been trying to see her and she kept refusing. He’d finally admitted a few things to himself about their relationship that he’d ignored or not wanted to acknowledge because it made him feel like a pathetic coward.
Fred narrowed his gaze as he watched her laughing with two old witches who ran a flower shop in town. She glanced at him once but looked away quickly when she realized he was staring, but he could tell by the stubborn tilt of her chin that he’d caught her. He’d been looking at this the wrong way all night, he realized, which made him feel pretty fucking stupid. Sure, she was doing this on purpose, getting revenge for how horrible he must have made her feel, but she had to still care to go to such drastic measures because that skirt alone meant serious business.
He couldn’t think of this as revenge because that would mean it was over, that he’d given up and become the pathetic tosser he feared he was, and that definitely wasn’t going to happen, if only to prevent George from having ammunition against him should it ever come up in the future. No, this wasn’t revenge, he decided, smiling wickedly as he began to formulate a plan while watching her closely. This was a challenge, and he’d never backed away from a challenge, especially not one that was all or nothing. She wanted to play? He’d play, but he definitely intended to win because he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight.
After he made his decision, he didn't need time to think about it. Instead, he gripped his glass tighter and walked across the room towards her. The flower women had wandered off, so she was standing alone near the window. He noticed her straighten her shoulders and that chin tilt was back, which meant she'd seen him and realized he was headed in her direction. She was in fighting stance, which would have made him smile because it was pretty cute, but just made him even more determined to get through to her before some other bloke who wasn't as stupid was the one teasing her about her various looks and stances.
When he reached her, he stood there while she did her best to ignore him. Bloody hell if she wasn't the most infuriating and stubborn woman in the world. It was just like him to fall in love with such an exasperating creature. Finally, he decided to say something and force her to acknowledge him. "Nice party." He cringed slightly because that pathetic attempt certainly wasn't charming, suave or irresistible.
“It was,” she said, glancing at him before looking away. “You’ve interrupted my fun.”
“You aren’t having fun, except for when you’re torturing me with that blasted skirt.” He was bollocks at this, obviously.
“I like this skirt.” Hermione glared at him then. “What do you want, Fred? Can’t you see that I’m trying to find a man worthy of my attention? I’ve been accused of settling for unworthy wizards in the past and had my sanity questioned regarding my choice in romantic partner, so I’ve decided to find someone who is perfect with no flaws at all because that’s the only smart choice.”
“I didn’t say all that,” he said, needing to defend himself even if it was a weak effort because he actually had said most of that, just about himself and how he wasn’t really deserving of her. There’d been more, especially when she started getting angry with him, but he couldn’t even remember all the details and doubted she could, either. “And I didn’t mean what I did say.”
“Just don’t.” She shook her head. “I’m not interested in hearing excuses or justification. You’re not an insecure man, yet you seem to be nothing but when our relationship gets too serious or you get scared. Do you think I don’t also have doubts? We haven’t even told our friends or your family yet because we wanted to make sure it was going to last before we involved anyone else. It’s like a dirty little secret, and I’m tired of it. I wouldn’t have chosen to be with you if I didn’t want you, and we’re mature enough to handle our family if things don’t work out. It’s just more excuses because you’re scared, and I’ve enabled it by agreeing, but it’s over now. I’m done with it.”
“I’m a coward, Hermione. I thought involving others might lead to them convincing you that I’m a bad choice, and I also wanted to keep you to myself for a while because you know what a bloody spectacle it’ll be once Mum and the others find out.” Fred frowned. “I never wanted you to feel like a dirty secret. I was just being a selfish prat.”
“Yes, you were,” she agreed, but she was at least listening to him now.
“I’m sorry.” Fred sighed and stared into her eyes so she could hopefully see how serious he was right now. “This last week has been bloody awful. Even worse than recovering after the war, and you remember how horrible I felt then.”
“Are you comparing me to nearly dying in the Battle of Hogwarts?” Hermione arched a brow. “You really do need to speak with Bill regarding the best way to charm women. This certainly isn’t helping you much.”
“Why’re you thinking about Bill when I’m baring my heart, woman?” Fred rolled his eyes but he was secretly glad to see her fighting a smile. He might not be handsome and charming, but she still liked him, so who was he to complain? “As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, this last week being without you has been even worse than getting hit with huge stones and almost dying. I was comparing you not being there with the dying part, you know?”
“Yes, I had guessed that,” she said, looking at him with shining eyes and a slight smile that she was no longer fighting. “Continue.”
“Well, uh, I’m an idiot,” he said, shrugging a shoulder when she merely looked at him and didn’t protest. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I did a lot of thinking when you were avoiding me.”
“That’s a scary thought.” She arched a brow as if she was unaffected, but he saw her fiddling with her glass so he knew she was just as nervous as he was. “What were you thinking about?”
“Us. I was terrified, like you said, because I do feel insecure around you. You’re so bloody amazing that it’s hard to believe you’d pick me,” he admitted. “I think I get it now, though. We work well together, balance each other, and I make you happy. Doesn’t matter if I’m a prat sometimes or not as clever about some stuff because I’m clever in other ways and you think I’m right fit, don’t deny it, and you like the way I hold you. You’ve told me so before, but I just didn’t listen, I guess.”
“And you’re listening now?” Hermione was whispering, and he felt like someone punched him in the gut because he’d put that uncertainty in her voice by being a right old berk.
“Yeah. Can’t promise I won’t slip up and say the wrong thing again, but you said some things, too,” he pointed out. “I came to this party hoping to talk to you. Didn’t expect you to torture me with that skirt, but I was still planning to try to get you to listen to me. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m sorry for the things I said,” she said. “I was angry, and I lashed out verbally because it was that or hex you rotten. I’m listening, too, Fred. We both made a mess of this, in a way, but you haven’t lost me. This week has been awful, but I had to do it because we couldn’t keep having the same arguments.”
“I understand, Hermione. I figured it all out on my own, too,” he said. “Couldn’t go to George for help, after all. I want to tell him, though. I’ve told him about my new girl, he knows a lot about us, but I kept your name out of it because of the whole selfish prat thing.”
“It’s been months now. If we were going to not work out, I think we’d have already gone bust,” she pointed out. “I want to stop sneaking around and hiding it.”
“Agreed. We can tell everyone at the family dinner Sunday, if you want?” Fred was definitely ready to stop hiding the fact that they were together. If someone tried to convince Hermione that he wasn’t right for her, his witch would probably hex them, anyway. He wasn’t sure what he’d been so scared about. “Does this mean you’ll give me another chance?”
“Of course. It was a silly argument, Fred. I’m sure it won’t be the last. It takes a lot more than that to scare me off,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “I wouldn’t be wearing this skimpy skirt if I hadn’t been ready to make up. I knew you’d be unable to stay stubborn and angry with me if you saw me dressed like this.”
“Sneaky little witch,” he said, grinning at her smug smile. “You thought I’d be angry with you? We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we definitely are that.” She stepped closer and leaned up to brush a kiss against his lips. It was their first time kissing in public, and he was really glad they’d agreed to stop hiding their relationship because it meant he got to put his arms around her and pull her close while those pervy wankers got to see that she’d chosen him, and he was going to get to take that flirty skirt off her when they got back home.
End
A Misunderstanding
Story Notes:
9/3/14