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After the war, Hermione had found herself homeless. Her parents’ home had been sold to fund the purchase of their Australian beach house. The sale of their dental clinic had covered the cost for the construction of the ice cream parlour “Abracadabra Ice Cream” they now owned in Bunbury, Western Australia. Retrieving their memories had proved impossible without damaging their brains, therefore, she was homeless, and an orphan to boot.
The money the Ministry had given her with her Order of Merlin, First Class, was not enough to purchase a home. She had already been hired by Gringotts, but the first several months working there, she would be in training and would thus be paid very little, certainly not enough to rent a flat.
On the morning of her last full day in Hogwarts, her NEWTS passed with flying colors and her trunk half packed, she worried about where she’d go after the Express brought her back to London for the last time. Because she could not impose on the Weasleys too long, now could she? Of course Molly and Arthur would not kick her out, but surely she'd have to find a solution before long. Grimmauld place, perhaps? Or maybe she could find a room in muggle London? She could find some form of accommodation with young foreigners who came to London to work in one of the million restaurants for a year to learn English? Or a hostel, maybe?
As these thoughts swirled in her mind, a small owl had delivered a letter. Her address was written in pearlescent blue ink, the handwriting was flowy and clear.
Dear Hermione,
Yesterday, Molly said you will be staying at the Burrow while she organizes your wedding with Ron. It is my understanding that you and Ron are just friends and have no plan to marry each other.
I'm aware we don’t know each other very well, but I know, from experience, that living with Molly Weasley as she organizes your wedding is a nightmare, even when you actually do intend to marry her son.
Your room at Shell Cottage is still available, should you want to stay at a safe distance until she comes to her senses.
Bisous,
Fleur
Hermione, obviously, accepted. Bill became her mentor at Gringotts. Fleur worked for the bank too. She brokered investments and spent most of her working hours in Patemoster Square, at the London Stock Exchange, while Bill and Hermione took care of breaking curses on the endless supply of dark objects the Ministry had seized from all the convicted Death Eaters and handed over to the Goblins.
In the evenings, they all returned to Shell Cottage and cooked dinner together. As they ate at the small table in the kitchen, they talked about their day and shared plans for the future. Afterwards, they would do the washing up and then Hermione would head to her room, to give the couple some privacy. Hermione paid a small rent and contributed to the expenses of the house. Both Fleur and Bill had tried to convince her it wasn't necessary, but when she'd opened a vault in the name of ‘Bill and Fleur Weasley’s future children’ and started putting money in it, they'd surrendered.
When Ron brought Hannah Abbott to the Burrow for Christmas, and introduced her as his girlfriend, Molly finally gave up on the idea of him marrying Hermione. She showed up at Shell Cottage on a Sunday morning a few weeks into the new year.
“I feel like you've been avoiding me, Hermione. And I'm beginning to think it was all my fault. I truly hoped you would end up marrying Ron, but I see now that you are terribly ill suited for one another. I actually like Hannah and I won't try to push you into a relationship with Ron. Can you forgive this silly old witch for trying to officially bring you into the family?”
“There’s no need to apologize, Molly. I love you all as family even if we’re not, technically, related.” She hugged the older witch.
“We love you like a daughter too, Hermione” Molly said after kissing her temple.
After they had tea together with Bill and Fleur, Molly left through the floo and waved goodbye.
“By the way, Hermione, Percy and Penelope just broke up.” And she disappeared in a flash of green flames.
Bille and Fleur laughed. “I don’t think you’ll be moving to the Burrow any time soon, Hermione.” Bill said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Despite Molly’s attempts at pairing her with her sons, Hermione attended Sunday dinners, birthday celebrations and holidays at the Burrow. The Weasleys had all but adopted her. She enjoyed her time there, but she kept a painstakingly precise schedule, splitting her time evenly amongst all the Weasleys, to avoid Molly getting any ideas in her mind. Conversations about politics with Percy were always stimulating, 20 minutes were spent with him. Check.
George and Fred were true geniuses in any and all magical subjects and she was truly fascinated by their work, even though she was still skeptical about their penchant for mischief. 40 minutes was their allocated timeframe. Her mental maths told her it was only logical, they were separate persons, even though they were quite inseparable. Hence, the double slot. Check. Check.
When Charlie showed up, he always had wonderful stories about his beloved dragons, 20 minutes with him. Check.
And then there were Ron and Hannah, Ginny and Harry, Bill and Fleur, with whom she could spend as much time as she wanted, without worrying about Molly. Thank Merlin for small mercies.
Luckily, all Weasley siblings soon paired up, and Hermione could talk to them without worrying about Molly or keeping count of the time she spent with each of them. Sundays at the Burrow soon became very crowded, as more and more significant others were added to the mix. Fred was the only one who never brought his mysterious partner over, declaring that he wasn’t ready to introduce them to the family. Hermione found it rather sweet. Despite all his shenanigans, Fred Weasley was a romantic at heart.
The fact that they were all involved with someone, allowed her to spend more time with whomever she chose.
Discussing magical theories with Fred, George and Angelina, to see how they solved problems they encountered in their shop, became a favourite pastime of hers.
Hermione was still living at Shell Cottage when Victoire was born, on the second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione had been planning to move out in January, but Fleur insisted that she could use the help, once the baby was born, and asked her to stay, at least until September. Hermione couldn’t say no to the witch who had welcomed her into her home when she needed it the most.
Victoire was, quite objectively thank you very much, the cutest baby on earth. She had strawberry blond hair, cornflower-blue eyes and a constellation of freckles across her minuscule nose and cherubic cheeks. Whenever she smiled, and that happened often, a single dimple appeared on her right cheek. All the Weasleys immediately fell in love with her. Hermione was head over heels for the little girl.
Sundays became exponentially more chaotic, as everyone tried to hold the baby. The only one who never insisted on holding Victoire at the Burrow, was Fred. He was content to stay on the sidelines and watch as the baby was passed from one besotted uncle to the next.
He would instead show up at Shell Cottage at least twice a week, when Fleur was home alone with the baby, and take care of Victoire while her mother rested. More often than not, Hermione would floo back from work in the late afternoon and find Fred on the rocking chair with Victoire sound asleep on his chest, a delicious dinner ready under a stasis charm and a well rested Fleur. Hermione found this oddly endearing. The way Fred nuzzled the baby’s head and gently stroked her back spoke of unconditional love. And the way he smiled at her when she stepped out of the floo made the fatigue of a long day melt away from her shoulders.
Victoire grew at the speed of light. When Hermione eventually moved out of Shell Cottage, the baby already managed to sit up straight for several minutes at a time. Fleur returned to work and Bill took a few months off. Hermione often popped by Shell Cottage for a visit, to give Bill time to take a shower or a nap. Sometimes, almost every time if she were being honest, her visits overlapped with Fred’s, and they would end up making dinner and playing with Victoire together. Hermione loved every minute of it. Fred was an adorable uncle and a wonderful friend. And he may have a relationship with an undisclosed someone, but he was gorgeous and Hermione had eyes, and she had been single for so long that... well, looking wasn't a crime as far as she knew.
He was also an unrelenting flirt. And she flirted right back. He’d never be interested, she reminded herself, but again... not a crime.
On Sundays, Hermione never missed the chance to walk with Victoire, carrying her around the Weasleys' garden. She always volunteered to feed her in the Burrow's kitchen, and read to her as she fell asleep in her pram for her mid-afternoon nap. When Victoire began saying her first few words, Hermione earned her new name, Tatinnie, which officially meant Tata Hermione. As it often happens with children, the name stuck, and everyone at the Burrow began calleing Hermione Tatinnie.
In her adorable Frenglish baby talk, Victoire was a skilled communicator. When she wanted something, she made sure everyone understood. The moment she saw Hermione, she would always waddle towards her shouting “Tatinnie! Up!” and Hermione would immediately comply. Once she was comfortably settled in Hermione’s arms, Victoire would point to the garden and say “Toto Fwed! Voom!” Hermione would take her outside where Fred would inevitably be flying about. Victoire cheered for her favourite uncle as he made a show of his prowess just for her.
On July 31st 2002, the Weasleys were all together at the Burrow to celebrate Harry’s 22nd birthday. As soon as Hermione stepped through the floo, Victoire squealed and wiggled out of her father’s arms, forcing him to lower her to the floor.
“Tatinnie!” The toddler grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. Hermione followed Victoire as she waddled around the garden. "Toto Fwed! Toto Fwed!" Victoire screamed and ran straight towards Fred. The tiny pony tail on the top of her head bounced as her short, chubby legs propelled her across the garden.
Hermione couldn’t help but notice Fred was wearing the dark green button-down she’d given him for his birthday and he looked bloody edible. The colour made his deep brown eyes pop against the fiery red of his hair. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was. The fact that he had broad shoulders, perfectly even and white teeth, enclosed in a perfect mouth always curved in a sweet smile didn’t help one bit. He was also wearing muggle jeans that really worked well on his long legs and delectable arse. Hermione sighed, albeit just inwardly.
"Here come my favourite girls!" Fred said as he opened his arms wide and crouched down as far as his wonky knee allowed.
Victoire wrapped her short arms around Fred’s neck and he started blowing raspberries on her adorably chubby cheeks. That gave way to an irresistible fit of giggles.
“Toto Fwed est twés naughty!” The little girl squealed, mixing languages as always.
“Hello, Tatinnie. How many suitors did you have to curse on your way here? That dress should be illegal!” He said with a smirk above Victoire’s shoulder.
“Oh, the usual Toto Fwed. How many love potion-spiked drinks did you have to dodge this week?” She replied.
Despite being aware that it was all for show, Fred’s goodnatured flirting always made butterflies flutter in Hermione’s stomach. “He has a significant other. He is not on the market.” Hermione mentally chastised herself.
“Toto Fwed et Tatinnie wead towy à Vittoi! Ensemble!” The toddler began pulling the two adults towards the house and they followed without protesting.
Fred had been left with a slight limp from the injuries he’d sustained when the wall had collapsed on top of him at the battle. His left knee had never. fully recovered and his ankle was rather stiff, especially on rainy days. It could have been much worse, and anyway, Fred had been able to turn this around and now used his limp to accentuate his swagger. Hermione felt heat rise to her cheeks when he placed his free hand on the small of her back upon walking through the door.
They reached the living room and Victoire pushed them towards the sofa. “Tatinnie ici. Toto Fwed too. Vittoi book.”
She waddled purposefully towards her pram, from which she pulled her well loved copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar that Hermione had given to her on her second birthday a few months earlier. She returned towards them with a broad smile, handed Fred the little book and climbed on Hermione’s lap.
Fred pulled a pair of rectangular wire-rimmed spectacles from out of his shirt pocket and wore them with a chuckle. “Alright, princess! Let’s see what this very hungry caterpillar gets up to!”
Hermione had to focus on not dropping her jaw. She had never seen Fred with glasses before. And she was glad Victoire was sitting on her lap because that would help keep her hands at bay. Those spectacles really played a number on her. She wanted to run her hands through his hair and kiss him until his glasses fogged up.
Wait. Where did that come from? Kiss Fred? She didn't want to kiss Fred, thank you very much. He was spoken for, and she wasn't that kind of witch.
“In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf.” Fred read. His voice was deep and soothing.
“Tatinnie closew! Toto Fwed pictures!” Victoire protested and the two adults immediately complied, scooting closer to one another. Fred placed the book on Victoire’s lap and draped his left arm on the back of the sofa, brushing Hermione’s curls as he did so.
Hermione couldn’t tell what happened to the caterpillar. The only thing she knew was that Fred’s thigh was pressed against hers and his fingers were softly tracing circles on the back of her neck. By the time Fred finished reading, the caterpillar wasn’t the only butterfly in the room. At least a million were wreaking havoc inside Hermione’s stomach.
“Pwetty pwetty buttewfly!” Victoire squealed and clapped her hands. “Toto Fwed, Tatinnie est pwetty pwetty buttewfly.”
“Yes, love. Tatinnie is pretty like a butterfly. And my princess Victoire is pretty like a butterfly. But you and Tatinnie are also strong like Toto Charlie’s dragons, and brave like lionesses, but also kind and clever. And I… am a very hungry caterpillar and I’m going to eat your tummy!”
He stood from the sofa, crouching over the toddler with his good knee on the sofa and the other in between Hermione’s. He began making chomping noises and tickled Victoire’s tummy as she squealed in delight.
The toddler squirmed away from Hermione’s lap and, all of a sudden, Fred found himself with his hands on Hermione’s stomach, where Victoire had been a second earlier, and his face a mere inches from hers. It was as if time had stopped. Hermione could feel the heat of Fred’s hands through the thin cotton of her summer dress. His breath tickled her lashes and his eyes, made even bigger and more intense by his spectacles, were pulling her towards him with the gravity of a supernova.
“Maman! Dada! Look! Toto Fwed give bisous à Tatinnie!” Victoire squealed from the floor by their feet.
She hugged Fred’s leg making him topple on top of Hermione. “Vittoi aussi!” She exclaimed as she wiggled her way back on Hermione’s lap and then proceeded to pull Fred even closer. “Vittoi hug and bisous avec Tatinnie et Toto Fwed!” She wrapped her short arms around their necks and left wet smooches on each of their cheeks.
Fred was still half on top of Hermione.
“Bisous Toto Fwed! Bisous!” Victoire pushed Fred’s face toward Hermione’s.
After a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, Fred’s mischievous grin reappeared and he placed a sloppy kiss on Hermione’s cheek and then resumed tickling his niece, pulling her away from her aunt and tossing her up in the air.
Fred then walked away, a giggling Victoire tossed over his shoulder as he went around the living room calling out loud. “Victoire! Where are you? Has anyone seen Victoire? Tata Gee, have you seen Victoire? Where did that silly goose go?”
Ginny laughed and tickled the back of Victoire’s knee. "I haven't seen that silly goose!"
“Silly goose! Silly goose!” Victoire squealed.
Hermione released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
Fleur appeared out of nowhere and gracefully sat beside her. “You know, Tatinnie, it’s funny how Fred never brought his supposed special person to any family gathering. One could almost think he’s single and trying to avoid Molly’s meddling.” The French witch said as she nonchalantly sipped from a tall glass of lemonade.
Hermione chuckled nervously. “You think?” she squeaked.
“Hmm, if he’s not at the shop, he’s at Shell Cottage with Victoire, asking about you and trying to sound casual. I don’t think he has time to see anyone else.”
“Are you trying to push me in Fred’s arms, Fleur? I thought that was Molly’s M.O.” Hermione raised a brow at her friend as music began playing outside in the garden.
“Oh, no, ma chère. I think my daughter is doing an excellent job all by herself.” Fleur stood with a smirk just as Victoire waddled back towards Hermione.
“Tatinnie! Viens!” She pulled her aunt’s hand.
Hermione followed the toddler outside where Fred was waiting with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.
“I was ordered to wait here. It would seem we have to dance, Tatinnie.” He said, extending a hand towards her.
“Doesn’t Victoire want to dance with ToTo Fwed?” Hermione asked the girl.
“Ensemble!” she giggled and held up her arms for Fred to pick her up.
With Victoire settled on his right hip, Fred wrapped his left arm around Hermione’s waist and the three began swaying together to Celestina Warbeck’s You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me.
After a few moments Fleur swooped in. “Victoire, viens mon petit choux. On doit changer ton couche.” The girl leaned out of Fred’s arms and into her mother’s. “You two keep dancing.” The witch winked as she hurried away.
Without missing a beat, Fred took Hermione’s hand in his and began spinning with her around the garden. His limp gave their dancing a bit of an off rhythm that was so quintessentially Fred, he may as well have been doing it on purpose.
“I'm losing all control. My chest is one big hole. Inside you'll see my soul. Happy as can be. 'Cause, babe, you charmed the heart right out of me!” Fred sang softly in her ear.
“You are a terrible flirt, Fred Weasley.” She said, breathlessly as he kept leading her around the Burrow’s garden and away from the house. “What will your partner say about this kind of behaviour?”
“Hmm, I wonder. What would George say if I happened to flirt with our favourite witch.” He said, pulling her tight against his chest.
“I’m not talking about George and you know it.” Heat was rising from her chest to her cheeks. Fred’s shoulders twitched under her fingertips and his lips brushed lightly against her forehead.
“Oh, maybe you’re talking about the fake relationship I told mum about so that she wouldn’t meddle?”
“Fake relationship?” She gasped.
“Well, you see, my mum, loving as she is, can be a bit meddlesome. And seeing how she made you run away when she was trying to push you into Ron’s arms, I didn’t want her to make you run from me too.”
They were now behind the house, far away from prying eyes.
Fred stopped dancing and stood still with his arms wrapped around her. “There’s this very special witch I’ve been trying to charm for some time. Today, my little wingtoddler gave me the right push to act, since my previous attempts were, perhaps, misinterpreted.”
“Well, Frederick Gideon Weasley, perhaps, if I hadn’t been made to believe you were romantically involved, I would have been more receptive.” She scoffed.
“I’m single, Hermione Jean Granger, and I’ve been besotted with you for a long time. Would you mind it terribly if I kissed you now, before our niece comes back?” He leaned closer and brushed an errant curl from her cheek.
Hermione seized the moment and closed the remaining distance.
Their first kiss was soft, sweet and tender. Fred groaned into her mouth as she twined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and opened her mouth to him.
His lips were soft, his kisses were entirely too good. How could anyone kiss like this? It should be illegal. Unforgivable, because right now, Hermione felt as though she'd completely given up control over her own body. His fingertips ghosted across her skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. Hermione groaned and pushed him against the wall and pressed her body flush against his. His arms wrapped around her waist and his kisses wandered down her throat as Hermione thanked every available deity for the absolute miracle that was Victoire Weasley.
They had been snogging in the back garden like teenagers for several minutes when a familiar giggle reached their ears. Short, chubby arms wrapped around their legs.
“Tatinnie! Toto Fwed! Bisous! Vittoi up!”
They chuckled and pulled the little girl up between them.
“Hey tiny wingwoman. You can tell your maman that Toto Fwed finally pulled his head out of his… bag.” Fred told the toddler as she settled in his arms.
Hermione chuckled and kissed the girl’s nose and then Fred’s lips.
“Toto Fwed is a terrible flirt, Victoire.” Hermione said.
“Toto Fwed tewwible fli-t.” Victoire replied sagely.