Let me inhale

“Granger.” This is insanely weird. Fred sat across from her. That must be wrong. She took her eyes off the psychology book. “What do you want, Weasley?” Hermione drawled his last name so mockingly that Fred wanted to get angry, but he laughed. It’s incredibly strange, so what? It is also unclear that he was in the library late at night, quite willingly, holding a potion book and sitting opposite Granger. And that was the craziest part. “I want to show you a trick.” “Not interested.” She looked as homely as it could be at Hogwarts. Hermione had bruises under her eyes and wore a muggle reindeer sweater (with reindeer, Merlin!) and jeans. Her hair was too tattered, so that Fred unconsciously stretched his hand to her, touching her wrist, on which the sleeve was drawn, and, as if he had come to his senses, squeezed it. The air drenched in Fred ate into leather as hard as possible. He did not answer, only looked so piercing, and Hermione wanted not to drown in his eyes, no, but to drown herself so that she could never see Fred again. But she kept seeing him. “That’s personal,” said Weasley. He’d awake, damn it. And then he was abruptly behind her, letting go of her wrist, and he hissed something in her ear, burning it with his hot breath. Hermione strained her hearing. “What can I do to make you love me?” “I already have… I mean, do some incredible thing. Maybe I will tell you I that I “love” you then.” Fred grinned and picked up Hermione’s lost book. “Granger, you’re not yourself… Oh, here! Do you know what a Freudian slip is?” The girl turned red. “Well, that’s it, and then you asked me not to open the store with George. Which means it’s a Fredian slip!” “I don’t see the logic in what you’re saying.” Weasley tops laughed. “You don’t need to look for it.” Fred climbed over the back of the couch and fell into the seat next to Hermione. “Do you want to read that?” he had in his hand the same potion book he had taken as a diversion. “I’ll refrain,” Granger’s got her nose up. Silence. “The library closes in five minutes, I ask you to leave the room during this time!” the sound of Madame Pince’s voice spread throughout the room and Hermione jumped from the couch. “Quiet,” said Fred, pulling her hand and the girl fell right on him. “We have five minutes.” Hermione didn’t like his grin. Absolutely. And then Weasley kissed her. They have five minutes. Please let me inhale a little, but, Merlin, this is a joke, and it can’t be real. Please! Joke like that a little bit more often.