For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Challenges Finals Round 2

CHASER 3: he didn't quite know what to think of that picture

PROMPTS: 2. (dialogue) "We might be born the same, look the same, but we're two different people still." / 3. (quote) "A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment." ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice / 13. (word) summer

PAIRING: Fred/Hermione

SUMMARY: Fred Weasley doesn't read. Or does he? A story where Fred has an ulterior motive for reading but everything doesn't always go like it does in books.

A/N: Set during the summer before Hermione's sixth year. Both ways unrequited Fremione romance because I like writing sad endings. This is actually my first try writing Fremione. Definitely not my piece of cake. Special thanks to my lovely teammate Raybe for betaing, to my little sister for being an amazing plot-bunny, and SeventhDreamer for just being herself.

She didn't quite know what to think of that picture.

After all, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to see the Weasley twins at the Burrow now that the shop takes all their time, especially as the summer season was ending and school was starting in few days. But even more unusual was to see one twin without the other.

Though, as Hermione liked books in general, there was no way she wouldn't find a man with a book attractive.

And Fred Weasley with his nose stuck in a book was indeed enough to make her breath hitch. Hermione's lips curled upwards as she continued looking at Fred. He looked so unaware of her presence – his eyes danced down the lines and occasionally he even smiled at what he was reading. Hermione walked to the kitchen where the red-head was casually leaning against the sink, holding the book in his left hand and turning pages with his right.

"Hey," she said and Fred almost dropped the book he was holding.

"Jeez, Hermione! You scared me!" he exclaimed but calmed down considerably when he noticed Hermione was alone. "Oh, Ron and Harry aren't with you?" It wasn't an actual question but more like a statement. "Have you been here for–?"

"I didn't know you read," Hermione interrupted him. Fred looked positively frightened; his brown eyes widened comically as his face slowly lost its colour as he his eyes jumped from Hermione to the book before he quickly regained his composure. Or at least a part of it.

"I... I wasn't reading," he protested but his tone held an unnaturally nervous edge. "I was just... looking if there were any pictures in it." He shook his head but held the book protectively anyway. "I don't read," he added more firmly.

Hermione held back her smile. She was about to let the obvious lie slide until she caught a glimpse of the book's spine and a familiar name. "Wait, isn't that Pride and Prejudice?" she asked.

Fred looked a little flustered by the sudden question. He flipped the book so he could see the cover. "Seems so," he said at last and shrugged. "Do you like it?"

"Do you?" Hermione countered.

Fred scratched his neck and grinned. He seemed to have relaxed a bit but left the question unanswered. Hermione crossed her arms and looked at Fred.

"So, why are you reading muggle literature?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Dad brought it from work and gave it to me and George. He was probably scared that Mum would be mad at him for bringing more muggle stuff here," Fred explained and beckoned to a brown cardboard box on the table. "George laughed me out the shop when I suggested we keep them so I decided to give them back."

"George laughed you out?" Hermione repeated, amused. "I thought a thing like that would never happen between you two."

"Ha ha. We might be born the same, look the same, but we're two different people still. And I could say we have vastly varied interests." Fred wiped away an imaginary tear. "I've always had a soft spot for some romance."

Hermione stared at Fred as if he had just grown a second head. Fred rolled his eyes but wore a wide grin on his face. He moved few strands that had escaped from Hermione's messy ponytail behind her ear before placing his hand on her shoulder. Fred leaned to whisper into her ear:

"How about you find out yourself?"

Hermione felt her blood rushing to redden her cheeks and she backed away. "Wha-what–?"

"I meant the box," Fred said easily.

"Oh, right." Hermione bit her lower lip and moved briskly to open the cardboard box. What was I thinking, Hermione cursed, thin fingers grazing the box. She gasped as she saw what was inside it.

"Amazing!" She beamed and without hesitation dug deeper into the box. It was full of muggle books, old editions. "Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell, the Brontë sisters… These are classics!" Hermione squealed.

Fred chuckled. "Anything you would recommend?"

"Well…" Hermione emptied most of the books to the table, piling them and then putting them back and silently trying to find the book she was looking for. For a while she thought it wasn't there but... "Ooh! This one!" She passed the book to Fred who quizzically looked at the cover.

"Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë?" Hermione nodded as response and Fred shrugged thoughtfully, leafing through the pages. "Is it that good?"

"It's my favourite," Hermione admitted eagerly. "I haven't read it in ages but it's wonderful. There is this one part where Catherine and Heathcliff meet at Thrushcross Grange and–"

"Then it's yours."

Hermione looked baffled when Fred offered her the book. "Oh no, I can't." She shook her head. "I really can't."

"Of course you can. I don't read, remember," Fred said, grinning widely and offering the book again. "Just take it, Hermione. As a gift."

"Thank you, Fred," Hermione murmured and after a moment of hesitation she accepted the book and hugged the red-head tightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. But no telling anyone, anyone, about this, okay? Especially not Ron. I don't want to ruin my good reputation in his eyes."

Hermione laughed. "You can bet I won't tell anyone."

Fred and George Weasley owned the apartment above their shop; small and comfy and as equally messy a place as the Burrow. But it was homely and a nice place to live.

George had taken Verity out with him. Fred had for a while supposed there was something going on between his brother and their employee. Not that Fred had anything against their relationship, if there was any. But George wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

Fred pulled out a chair and slumped down. There was a loud thumb when his elbows made contact with the table's surface. What was I thinking? Fred thought glumly, gritting his teeth and burying his face in his hands.

After all, he hadn't gotten the books from Arthur. He hadn't been laughed out by George; on the contrary, George had encouraged him to go. Fred had bought those books for Hermione. And he had ruined his chances for telling her about his feelings.

Now he had a box of romance novels, placed on the corner of the room where it would only wait the dust to descend over it. Only Pride and Prejudice was left on the table. It was a good book actually, Fred had to admit. Very well written. Such an intelligent woman that Jane Austen had been.

A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. That was indeed true. But the same could happen to a man as easily.

It had happened to Fred.