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sailtomarina · 6 months

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Wild Lavender

Hermione x Fred | Kinktober Day 30: “Formalwear” cw: implied sex

When Hermione saw the formal invitation with “black tie” in carefully printed letters, she had to admit a part of her almost canceled on Fred right then and there.

The Merchant’s Inaugural Gala was meant to celebrate the reformation of Diagon Alley and related shopping districts after the war. It had been a long time getting back to the previous levels of activity, too long since people felt comfortable in the public spaces that once brought so many of them joy.

It was through that rebuilding effort that Hermione and Fred bonded, with her spending much of her free time on the weekends over at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes replenishing stocks and shelves alongside her favorite twin.

They were so close to taking that final step towards something more, and when he’d asked her to be his +1, she hadn’t hesitated to accept. Now, standing in his kitchen above the store after going up to get a drink of water, she looked down at the card atop his table.

Black tie.

What was she even going to wear? She didn’t have any gowns suitable for this type of event. The best she had was the red cocktail dress she’d worn at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Could she have it lengthened?

Fred popped his head in the door and noticed her standing there, chewing her lip.

“Everything alright, Hermione?”

She startled at his voice and set the glass down with a loud clunk.

“I didn’t realize the gala would be so formal.”

He sauntered over to look down at the invitation, before looking back up at her with his head tilted. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“I just don’t know if I have anything to wear,” she admitted. She willed her hands to stop twisting the hem of her sweater like she often did when nervous.

“Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. I didn’t have anything either, which is why I popped over to Wild Lavender.”

That surprised her. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine him walking into the posh new boutique.

His next words surprised her even more. “If you go for yourself, let them know you’re my date. They’ll take care of you.”

She gaped at him, appalled at the implication. “I’m not letting you buy my gown, Fred!” He obviously had no idea how expensive dresses could get.

“I promise that’s not what I mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll just make sure you get something that matches well. The proprietor also may have mentioned wanting to meet you.”

She wrinkled her brow at the strange comment. Why would a stranger want to meet her? Then another idea came to mind and she flinched. What if they were one of those people who got off on meeting celebrities? She was a household name now, alongside the boys, and she’d already suffered her fair share of dodging the press.

As if he’d read her mind, Fred nudged her playfully. “It’s nothing bad, trust me. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. “We’ll see about that.”

Her mind whirred as she followed him back down to the shop. What could the owner of an up-and-coming clothes shop want with her?

It turned out that the proprietors were none other than Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

She should have guessed the connection with the name, but she hadn’t seen nor heard anything about Lavender following her hospitalization. Hermione had known it was a pretty big ordeal—it was Fenrir, after all–and that her former housemate survived, but nothing beyond that.

The two girls circled her like hawks, and Hermione tried to not stare at the scars marring the once-pretty girl’s face, focusing instead on Parvati’s excited smile.

“You’re going to be perfect!” she gushed. Lavender nodded in agreement, continuing to take her measurements.

“I’m sorry, what is going to be perfect?” Hermione asked, her nerves getting the better of her. She had to forcibly stop herself from gripping her sweater.

“We’re thinking midnight blue to match with Fred, and something that accentuates your delicate features,” Parvati answered.

“She won’t need any support with how tiny she is,” Lavender murmured.

Hermione flushed. She knew she was skinny—several months on the run had made certain of that. She had only recently gotten back to her former weight, but it was still difficult making herself eat when she could have easily skipped meals.

Lavender rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Hermione looked at her directly for the first time. She hadn’t expected the comfort, to be honest, given their history. Large hazel eyes looked back at her filled with a kindness and understanding to which Hermione couldn’t help but respond. She smiled tightly, tears threatening to fall, and it was only Lavender’s reassuring squeeze that gave her the will to stop them.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Hermione,” Lavender said softly, going on to explain, “I simply meant that we won’t need further adjustments.”

It turned out what they had in mind was more daring than Hermione would have ever, ever chosen for herself.

The drawing Parvati held up to her revealed a slender gown that hugged the model’s willowy frame, the back of which plunged deep past the center of her back with thin straps exposing her shoulders. She appreciated the design hiding the purple scar reaching across her torso—she wasn’t ashamed of it, but she still wasn’t comfortable with showing it off to others. She’d cross that hurdle with Fred if they ever got there.

The skirt flared outward at the knee in a mermaid silhouette. Hermione had only ever considered the shape as something appropriate for wedding gowns, not for anything she would ever wear.

“We’re adding a charm to occasionally shimmer gold as you move,” Parvati described. She waved her hands in her excitement. “You won’t need to wear a bra or anything for support since we’ll have spells weaved into the fabric, not that you even can wear one with this design. I’d advise against knickers, as well.”

“It’s beautiful, but don’t you think it’s a bit…much…for me?” she tentatively asked.

“Nonsense,” Lavender scoffed. Her voice regained the vigor of her youth in her certainty. “In fact, I’d wager you’ll catch every single person’s attention the moment you walk in. You are magnificent.”

Hermione only wanted one wizard’s attention, but she flushed at the compliment, all the same.

“Just make sure you credit Wild Lavender when asked about your stylist,” Parvati added.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. Here was the true reason they’d wanted to meet her so badly. When they refused her payment, she barely argued. If they wanted her to parade their goods to the world, she might as well take them up on the offer.

She had no idea what to expect as she waited for Fred to arrive at her flat. She trusted he’d dress appropriately thanks to the girls, but she also wouldn’t have put it past the mischievous wizard to show up in something akin to his and George’s signature orange.

Hermione had to admit that she wouldn’t even mind.

As garish as the color was, the brightness of it simply suited him. Fred was pure joy. If he hadn’t survived his injuries after the final battle, Hermione knew the loss would have devastated his family and everyone else who knew him, and she would have been robbed of some of the happiest moments of her life.

When the knock came, a cheery trio of raps that was all Fred, she took a steadying breath before opening the door.

Fred Weasley cleaned up extremely well.

The prat knew it, too.

He stood there, one hand casually in his pocket, and the other holding up a single-stemmed rose in a deep shade of red, a single dark blue ribbon tied to the stem.

He wore a three-piece suit in a shade of brown Hermione immediately likened to her favorite dark roast coffee. The color complimented his hair, shorn short on the sides and the longer tresses up top styled in fashionable messiness. Accents of a blue matching the rose’s ribbon could be found in his slim tie and pocket square, both of which brought out his light blue eyes, which were currently pinned on her and twinkling in a way that was uniquely his.

“Hello, Hermione.”

It took a twist of his lips for Hermione to realize she was gaping at him. She shut her mouth with an audible click and hastily cast about for something appropriate to say.

She was an intelligent witch. She could be witty when required.

“Hi.”

Bloody hell.

His damnable lips curled upward into a grin. He then blatantly ran his eyes down her figure, before locking back onto her stupefied gaze. “You look gorgeous.”

Hermione was forced to clear her throat, which suddenly felt extremely dry, before answering. “Thank you. You look very nice, as well.”

She flushed as he chuckled at her stiff response. She sounded nothing like her normal self, and she hated that. Why couldn’t she just act like she normally did around him? It was usually so easy.

Curse Lavender and Parvati for making him look so damn delicious.

Hermione already knew he was a good-looking and fit wizard; a blind witch could have told her that. He and George had been Beaters, after all. They had the muscle mass to back up the skills the position required: broad shoulders, thick thighs that his dress slacks hugged sinfully, and an arse so tight she knew if he just turned around she’d want to bounce a Quaffle off of it.

Were Quaffles bouncy?

“Shall we?” He held out an elbow.

“Yes, oh!” Hermione plucked the rose from his fingers and rushed back to the kitchen to set it in a vase in the dead center of the island. “Now I’m ready.”

A choked sound had her twirling around in concern. His eyes were wide, and she realized that he’d seen her back for the first time.

Her very. Bare. Back.

He smiled tightly at her, closed his eyes for a few seconds, the tendons in his neck standing out, then reopened them before offering his arm once more for her to take.

As she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, Hermione couldn’t help but squeeze lightly in appreciation. He was just so solid and warm, and she couldn’t help but imagine him wrapping those same arms around her. What would they feel like pressing her against the wall, or bent over a desk?

A throat clearing had her looking up into crystal clear eyes that looked hungry.

“Yes?”

“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘yes’ this evening and I’m tempted to make you say it several times more before we even leave the flat.” He sounded hoarse, eyes dropping down to her lips and staring like he wanted nothing more than to bite them.

Circe help her, but she wanted him to bite her.

“Then why don’t you?” she said, far more breathily than she’d intended.

“Be careful what you ask for, Hermione,” he warned, turning to face her and placing his other hand on her hip.

Looking as he did, painfully handsome and dressed up for her, Hermione summoned every ounce of courage in her body to voice her thoughts aloud.

“Make me say ‘yes’, Fred.”

His eyes flashed, and then he was on her, pressing her up against the kitchen island, the hand on her hip sliding down to grip her thigh.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress, Fred Weasley.”

“Then tell me how to take it off, witch.”

She told him, and they ended up arriving at the gala several hours late, but just in time for the final toasts.

“Oh, this? Wild Lavender. You will not regret it.”

WC 1966

10/30 “Formalwear” prompt for @hpkinktober

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

I don’t know if I’ve ever written Fremione, despite absolutely loving the two of them together? The twins are fantastic if any combination, to be honest, and I should probably write a triad fic for them sometime.

The title is a reference to a couple of YouTube fashion influencers I used to watch all the time. Kudos if you recognize it ;)

#harry potter fanfiction #hp kinktober 2023 #fremione #fred weasley #hermione granger #fred x hermione

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