Hermione’s always been quiet, studious, serious, but when she’s with Fred, she’s anything but; he makes her laugh until her stomach aches, until tears roll down her cheeks and he pulls her against his chest, his own shoulders shaking with laughter too.

Hermione’s always been one for order and control, but living with Fred isn’t like that - they sleep late and go to bed early, he leaves crumbs in their bed from when he makes her breakfast, she’s nearly burned herself way too many times when she’s cooking and he slips his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and muttering sweet nothings into her ear and yet, she’s never been happier.

Hermione’s kissed other boys, has been with other men, but it’s never been like it is with Fred, the pleasant swirl in her stomach when his eyes catch hers across the room, the goosebumps on her skin as his fingers casually ghost along her body, how she arches against him as their bodies move together and he wrings release after release out of her already sated body - she could spend the rest of her life like this and she thinks he could too.