Harry Potter 1. Uh Oh

_**A/N: Again, I just couldn't wait. I must be a masochist for putting them both up so soon. Warning, first part's a bit random.**_

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Disclaimer: Nope, nope, and nope.

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Uh-Oh

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I, Fred Weasley, am a lucky man.

Why am I so lucky? Well, for starters I have the world's best family. I have an identical twin, five more brothers, and a sister. My parents are wonderful. All my sisters in law and my brother in law are nice. I have terrific friends and three beautiful children.

But the best part of my family is without a doubt my beautiful, brilliant wife Hermione. I don't know what I did to even deserve the thought of her. She's made me the man I am today.

I'm successful. I co-own the very popular Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes (which just opened it's eighth branch in Paris) with my twin George.

I'm well respected in the magical community. My family are purebloods. My brother Percy is head of the Wizengamot. My dad has worked at the ministry for nearly thirty years and is highly supported to be the next Minister of Magic. Bill is one of the heads of Gringott's. Ron's an Auror. Ginny's husband Neville is a famous healer. Charlie is getting a lot of attention for his work with dragons. I think we all turned out pretty good. Not to mention that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville helped Harry Potter (yes, The Harry Potter) defeat You-Know-Who once and for all.

And very important, I'm funny. The shop wouldn't be so successful if I wasn't. George and I were the biggest trouble makers Hogwarts has ever seen. Our leaving on brooms during Umbrage's reign is still talked about almost twenty years after it happened. Heck, even Peeves still talks about us.

I bet McGonagall nearly had a stroke when she found out she was going to have one of my kids at Hogwarts. So far, there hasn't been anything serious. No matter what Hermione says.

That's how lucky I am. Great family. Good job. Well liked. My life is pretty much perfect.

Or so I thought.

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I arrived home a little past nine on the night of January tenth. It was early compared to some of the hours I'd been pulling lately. George and I were preparing a new line to launch by month's end and we kept running into snags.

Walking into the kitchen, I found my son Noah attempting to sneak into the cookie jar on top of the Muggle refrigerator Hermione had wanted.

"Hold it." I said. He instantly froze and looked at me sheepishly. "What has your mother told you about this?"

"Don't get caught?" he tried.

I raised my eyebrow. "Try again."

"Sorry." he said and slid off the counter onto the floor.

"Where is your Mum?" I asked, ruffling his hair.

"Upstairs. I think she's already in bed."

That was unusual. "Your mother went to bed and left you up?"

He frowned at me. "I'm almost eleven Dad." He looks just like Hermione when he does that.

"Roxie asleep?" I asked, referring to our youngest daughter Roxanne. She's nine. Our oldest, Madeline, was a third year at Hogwarts.

"Yep."

"Why don't you go brush your teeth. It's getting close to your bedtime."

He obliged, but not without another of those looks.

After checking on Roxie, I made my way to mine and Hermione's room at the end of the second floor hallway. The lights were off and it was dead silent. I peeked inside, and sure enough, Hermione was already in bed. The moon was full and cast a light into the room. I noticed Hermione's red dress and robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I love that dress. She looks incredible in it. _'We must have plans tomorrow night. She'll remind me.'_

My fatigue caught up with me and I got ready for bed quickly. Careful not to wake my sleeping wife, I slid in beside her and I was out before my head hit the pillow.

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If Hermione's going to bed early was strange, the next morning was even stranger. For starters, I woke up alone. On a Sunday. Before seven. Hermione always sleeps in on Sundays. Figuring she was making breakfast, I got up. While I was grabbing my robe I noticed that her dress clothes were no longer on the door.

The kitchen was empty when I entered. The only sign of life was the note stuck on the bulletin board next to the back door.

**Dad,**

**Mum's working and dropped me and Roxie at the Burrow. She said for you to feed us dinner.**

**Noah**

Working? On a Sunday? Hermione's always been a bookworm and an over achiever, but this was a bit much.

'_She must be working on a big case.'_ Regretfully, I had no idea. I'd been a bit preoccupied lately.

"_Guess I'll go to work until dinner time.'_

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After I hadn't seen my wife for two weeks I began to get suspicious. Night after night I came home to find Hermione either asleep or still at work. Each morning, she was already gone before I woke up.

It was starting to get old.

When neither Harry, Ron, nor Ginny could tell me what was going on, I decided there was nothing left to do but confront my wife.

I got home from work around three one day and plopped down on our bed to wait for her. The kids were with my parents for the night and everyone had strict instructions not to bother us unless there was a death or major blood loss involved.

Hermione showed up at a quarter to eleven. She looked tired and sad. But still as beautiful as ever. My heart lurched at the sight of her.

She hadn't noticed me yet. She was putting her things away and undoing her robes when she finally turned and saw me on the bed. She jumped about a foot.

"Fred, you scared the daylights out of me." she said angrily.

"Sorry." I said dryly.

Hermione blinked, and turned back to the dresser, placing her robes in it. She pulled her hair form it's updo and began to brush it furiously. She was definitely angry.

"Work okay?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Harry and Ron?"

"Yes."

"The kids?"

"Yes."

Grr. Now I was starting to get angry.

I stood and stalked over to stand behind her. Gently, I took the hairbrush from her hands and turned her to look at me. There was an accusing, reproachful glare in her eye I hadn't seen since she was in labor with Roxie and screaming at me to never touch her again.

I was starting to get scared.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong." She stalked past me and began turning the bed down.

"Dammit Hermione, tell me what's the matter." I yelled.

She whirled on me. "What's today's date?"

Huh? "The twenty-fourth."

"And two weeks ago tonight? What was that?"

"Uh, the tenth?" I tried.

She looked at me expectantly. Obviously, I should have known the answer.

"I don't get it. Do you need a calendar?"

Her mouth dropped open. "You honestly don't get it?"

I threw my hands up in a 'duh' gesture.

"Think Fred. January tenth. Fifteen years ago." she said.

Oh.

My.

God.

"Our anniversary." I whispered.

"Finally got it, huh?"

"Hermione, I'm so sorry." I began toward her, but she held out her arms to stop me.

"Just don't. This is the final straw Fred."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've dealt with the late nights, the canceled plans, the dinners alone for nearly a year now. You've been treating me like a roommate instead of your wife and I'm sick of it. I will not be ignored by my own husband!" she screamed in rage, tears streaming down her face.

"Honey, Baby, if I had known…"

"You should have. Did you really think I would take it forever? What happened to the Fred I married? The one who actually paid attention to me." she whirled around, hiding her face from me. I watched her hands raise to her face as she furiously wiped the tears away.

"When you never said anything about plans for our anniversary," she said after a few minutes, "I thought you were planning a surprise. You've always made our anniversary a big deal. I sat and waited for you all day. Did you even realize I stayed home form work?"

I hadn't. God, I felt like dirt.

"Of course not. You were gone to the precious shop before I even woke up."

"What can I do?" I begged. I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you."

"I don't know if you can." she whispered.

What?

"Hermione…"

She pulled my hands away, and turned to face me again. With a deep breath, she looked into my eyes. "Fred, tell me the truth, do you love me anymore?"

I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. Here was my wife, the reason I get up in the morning, doubting I still loved her.

"How can you ask me that?"

"All these years," she began, tears streaming down her face, "my worst fear was that you only came after me because of Maddie. That you didn't…that you weren't really in love with me. Now, it's more than a fear. It's a very real thought I have every day."

"Because I forgot our anniversary?"

"Because you don't **act** like you love me anymore!" she screamed. "I feel like a piece of furniture to you."

"Hermione, I love you more than anything." I said desperately.

She plucked a pillow and thrust it at me. "I wish I could believe that. And tonight, you're sleeping in the guest room." She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Silently, I walked into the guestroom and sat down on the bed in a daze. _'How can she really think that?'_

For the past fifteen years I have loved Hermione more than I thought it was possible to love anybody. Everything I do and think throughout the day is about her. Could I have gotten so caught up in that I made her believe she wasn't important o me anymore? That she never really was?

Our anniversary has always been our day. When we're just us, nothing to distract us. And this year, fifteen , it slipped my mind.

I had to make it up to her. Had to make her see that she was my world.

But how?

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	2. Just Don't Get It

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Just Don't Get It

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Is it really necessary to say that I didn't sleep any that night?

I tried. But every time I closed my eyes I saw Hermione crying and screaming at me. Not something I ever wanted to see. The closet thing I had ever come to it before was when she was in labor. Then I knew she didn't really mean the things she was saying.

But she had meant them the night before.

I still couldn't believe it. Hermione seriously doubted that I loved her. That I had ever loved her. How could I have been any more clear about it?

I've always thought I was pretty affectionate towards my wife. I kiss her goodbye whenever one of us leaves the house. I kiss her goodnight. Well, if she's still awake when I come in. I've never forgotten her birthday, Valentine's Day, or, until this year, our anniversary.

I've never lied to her, never kept anything form her (apart from surprises), never cheated on her.

I remember coming home with flowers or little gifts for no reason. Planning nights out to give us some time to ourselves. I even cleaned the whole house top to bottom and did all the laundry once.

Then it hit me.

I don't do things like that anymore.

I couldn't say when was the last time I snuck a note into her briefcase or brought her a picnic to work. I couldn't even tell you when I last woke her up in the middle of the night to show her a new product I had just finished.

I hadn't the foggiest what she was doing at work. It had been so long since I asked. For all I knew, she could have quit.

She was right.

I wasn't acting like a husband anymore. A husband usually makes an effort to have dinner with his wife at least once in a three week period. A husband lets his wife know if he's going to be working late. And a husband definitely lets his wife know if he's going to sleep at his shop because he's too exhausted to come home.

_I'm a git. A huge, slimy git. _

It was a little before dawn, and there was no hope for sleep, so I got up and dressed. If I was ever going to convince Hermione that I really did love her-I had to start right away.

I know what you're thinking. And yes, it was obvious I couldn't do it all in one day. But the sooner I started, the sooner it would work. Because it had to work. It just had to. I refuse to live in a world where my wife was so sad and hurt. I just wouldn't do it.

The easiest way to say your sorry is often the simplest. I've heard Hermione tell the kids that more times than I can count. And she's right. Which she usually is.

And right now the simple thing is breakfast. Hermione is a morning person. Always has been. She loves when the sun's not quite up and the air is still light. More importantly, she's always loved breakfast. When she was pregnant with Noah she went through a two week period where she wouldn't eat anything but pancakes. He went through one when he was four.

I began cooking. The fact that there were only two of us in the house didn't really register, and I made enough for even my family. Even Ron. Three dozen chocolate chip pancakes. Sausage. Fresh strawberries. Bacon. Biscuits. Scrambled eggs. I could have feed the whole of the Chudley Cannons.

I was just loading everything onto a tray to take up to her when she came padding into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Fred Weasley, it's not even six o'clock. What in heaven's name are you doing?" she demanded.

"Making breakfast. I couldn't sleep."

Her eyes softened and a brief flicker of pain crossed over her features as she obviously recalled what had transpired the night before. With a deep sigh, she sat down at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry." she said.

"For what?" I asked. I was mystified. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me. You haven't done anything to apologize for."

"Yes, I did. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that." she said, fiddling with the bottom of her pajama top.

Okay, I was the idiot here and she was apologizing? That is so not right.

"Baby, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I forgot our anniversary. And for the way I've acted. It's inexcusable." I got down on my knees on the floor in front of her and took her hands in mine. I looked down at them. They were so small. Funny how such a strong, powerful woman could have such tiny hands. It made me realize that she's more fragile than I ever gave her credit for.

She put her hand to my forehead. "Are you sick?"

That was unexpected. "No."

"But you just apologized. You are Fred, right? Fred Weasley. The guy I married in the temple in town?" she said.

I frowned. Probably not the brightest move, but I did it. "Yes." I said huffily.

Then she frowned. "I'm just checking. I've never known you to actually say you were sorry about anything. You usually just try and charm your way out of whatever mess you get into. And that doesn't work, you make excuses."

Now that hurt. A lot.

"I'm not sixteen anymore Hermione."

"Could have fooled me." she muttered.

"Look, I know I was wrong, but I'm trying to make up for it." I tell her, my voice close to shouting.

"You think one apology is going to make it all better?" she demanded.

I stood and glared, yes glared, down at her. "No. I know it won't. But at least **I'm** making an effort."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Breakfast? That's how you intend to fix this?"

"No." I hated how small my voice sounded. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed and see if maybe we could spend the day together. We haven't done that in a while."

Her arms dropped from their place across her chest. She no longer looked ready to throttle me. Good sign.

"I want to talk about this. Really talk about it. I want to know what I did, and how I can make it up to you." I said.

Hermione looked on the edge of tears. "We do need to talk. But I'm taking the kids to see my parents today. They're expecting us at ten."

I felt myself deflate at her words. "Oh."

"Want to have breakfast together?" she asked with a small smile.

I smiled back. "Sure."

Then, being the gentleman I am, I held her seat out for her. Her mouth dropped open in shock, but she closed it quickly.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It was tense and uncomfortable and not what you'd expect from two people that had been married for fifteen years.

I've never been one for uncomfortable silences. Or any silence. So naturally, I was the first to speak. "Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you please tell me what I did to make you think I don't love you?"

Again, she looked shocked. But she recovered, and taking a deep breath, began to speak.

"You were the best husband anyone could have ever asked for. You were attentive, affectionate (told you), funny, handsome, thoughtful." She smiled dreamily, as if she were thinking of someone else. "You were always there when I needed you. Like when I lost the baby. And when I almost lost Roxie."

God. Those were the worst times in my life. Both our lives. A year after Noah was born Hermione got pregnant again, but she had a miscarriage in her third month. She was devastated. Didn't get out of bed for weeks, hardly ate. The only thing that got her through was my telling her repeatedly that we could have more children, and never forget the one we lost.

Five months into her pregnancy with Roxie, she went into premature labor. We were both terrified about the baby. I was even more terrified about losing her. But the healers stopped it and put her on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. I stayed home with her and the kids every day.

That was when we decided not to have more kids. The risk was just too high. Fortunately, Roxie and Hermione were both fine.

I put my hand over hers on the table. "I miss that Fred." she said softly.

I nearly got whiplash, my had jerked up so fast at her comment.

"The one who used to do silly thing to make me laugh." I recalled tickling her bellybutton while she was pregnant to get her out of her bad moods. It still works at times.

"The one who used to let me steal his clothes." The image of her, seventeen and adorable, wearing my Cannons shirt wafted through my mind.

"The one who used to give up nights out with his friends just so we could be alone." I thought of my now weekly nights out with my brother and friends that she always claimed not to mind.

Hermione looked back up at me with tears in her eyes. "When did I stop being a priority for you and become an obligation?"

I actually fell out of my chair. That's how shocked I was. "I do not think of you as an obligation."

"You'd never know it from my end." she snapped bitterly. "I've often thought of putting a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes sticker on my forehead so I could get a little attention."

"It's not that bad." I grumbled.

"Fred, you haven't touched me in over two months." she stated simply.

Ouch. Had it really been that long?

A small, somewhat naughty smile played over her lips. "There was a time when you were pretty insatiable."

"There was a time when you were, too." I said defensively.

Hermione laughed a bit at that. "There used to be some romance in our lives. Before all the monotony set in."

She glanced over at the clock. "I've gotta go get ready and pick up the kids. See you tonight?" she sounded sort of fearful that she wouldn't.

I nodded. She went to leave, but in a flash I grabbed her wrist and spun her around, kissing her with everything in me. "See you tonight." I whispered.

She continued upstairs, looking slightly dazed. I was rather proud.

_So Hermione wants romance. That's why she thinks I don't love her anymore._

I love my wife. I'd like to think I know her pretty well. But I will never for the life of me understand her.

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	3. YouKnow WhatThey Say AboutGoodIntentions

_**A/N: If you can't tell after reading this chapter, I'm suffering from severe writer's block. But I'm trying to work through it.**_

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You Know What They Say About Good Intentions

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Romance. I can do that. I'm Fred Weasley after all. I wasn't called 'Hot Lips' for a month during fifth year for nothing.

Unfortunately for me, I can't exactly have a romantic interlude with Hermione while the kids are here. But that does give me time to plan. And elaborate, ingenious plots are my forte after all.

Hm. But what should I do?

The romantic dinner is out. A trip is out. There's no way I could get away right now. And Hermione has always had to put in at least two months notice to get time off. A weekend to ourselves might work, but finding someone to watch the kids might be a problem. My parents are getting ready to go to Romania to visit Charlie and Stella and Hermione's Mum and Dad are on a cruise to the Mediterranean. And everybody else we know has kids of their own. I'm sure any member of my family wouldn't mind watching them, but I wouldn't feel right about it.

So I'm stuck. No dinner, no trip. Gifts won't work. Hermione can't be bribed. Believe me, I've tried. When she's angry no amount of jewelry or flowers or chocolate will help. Neither will bribing of the physical variety.

What now?

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I decided to start by showing Hermione that she wasn't an obligation for me. The easiest way to do that, I figured, was to be at home more. And to do more around the house. So that night I did something I hadn't done in almost two years.

I made dinner. After a day with her parents, I'm sure Hermione would love to come home and not have to cook. Hey, it's a start.

I had just finished setting the table when I heard voices coming from the living room. Hermione walked into the kitchen looking frazzled. The kids were still talking at the tops of their lungs, and she shook her head in impatience.

Hermione stopped dead at the sight of me setting the table. She looked curiously at the oven, where the bread was still baking. Well, warming up.

"You made dinner?" she asked incredulously.

I nodded.

"Why?"

I shrugged. "Why not? I was home, and I figured you had a long day. Just trying to do something nice."

She paused for a moment, considering my words. "You didn't conjure it, did you?"

"No." I huffed grumpily.

She smiled slightly. "No need to get defensive. Just curious?"

She walked over and peered into the bowls sitting on the table. Beef stew. Salad. Nothing fancy, but it worked.

"You haven't cooked in I don't know how long." she said, eyeing me suspiciously. "What did you do?"

My jaw dropped. Not sure why. It was a pretty fair question under normal circumstances.

"Nothing." I replied. She studied me, looking for the tell-tell signs of lying. "Honest."

"Okay."

"You sit and I'll go get the kids." I told her. She obliged, and I made sure to kiss her on top of the head on my way into the living room.

Dinner was relatively uneventful. The kids chattered on about their day with their grandparents. I told them about the new line of Muggle magic tricks George had insisted we stock. Hermione was unusually quiet. More than anything she seemed to be studying me. Observing the way I was interacting with the kids.

I felt a little insulted.

But I made sure to be nothing but sweet toward her and act as besotted as ever. I was trying to convince her I loved her after all.

And if my cleaning up everything by myself didn't convince her, then it was a lost cause.

After dinner, the kids wanted to play Exploding Snap. We settled around the fire and played five games while Hermione read on the couch. That was the way it used to be all the time. You couldn't walk into our house without seeing me and Hermione doing something with one or more of the kids. The last time we were all together like this had to be Maddie's eleventh birthday. Over two years ago.

A little before nine, Hermione began getting Roxie ready for bed. An hour later it was Noah's turn. I put away the game and began turning the lights out. In the kitchen Hermione caught up with me.

"What are you doing?" she asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Turning out the lights." I said.

"Why? It's only a little after ten."

"So? I'm ready for bed." I explained.

She eyed me critically. "Ready for bed? Or hoping that maybe…" she trailed off.

I will admit that I blushed a bit. "Well, I wouldn't say no."

She smiled softly. "Would you be upset if I said I'm not really in the mood?"

I could feel myself deflate a bit. "A little disappointed, but I'll live."

There was no expression on her face, so I had no idea if this was the right thing to say or not. We just stood there for a few more seconds until she turned off the remaining light and held her hand out toward me.

I took it, and we made our way up to our room. We got ready for bed, easily falling into the old routine we developed during our first year of marriage. Once under the covers, Hermione rolled over onto her side, facing away from me.

I was about to admit a momentary defeat when she spoke up. "Fred, did you mean what you said this morning?"

"Every word."

When she made no further attempts at communication, I scooted over to snuggle up behind her, sliding my arm around her waist. She didn't react at first. Then she placed her hand over mine on her stomach, entwining our fingers. With a huge grin on my face I fell asleep faster than I had in a long time.

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For the first time in I don't know how long, Hermione and I both woke up in the same bed together. Unfortunately, it was Monday and that meant work. No taking advantage of the fact that neither of us were waking up alone.

It was starting to get old. I'm a man. A married man and I have needs.

But to tell my wife that would be akin to committing suicide. I couldn't let her think I was pushing. I needed her to know that I truly loved her.

However, being that I woke up before six on Tuesday morning, I figured I could indulge myself-I mean us-a little.

Hermione was asleep on her stomach, with her head facing toward me. I kissed her cheek lightly. She stirred and peered up at me. "Fred…it's not even six o'clock yet."

I grinned despite myself. "I know. Perfect opportunity." I kissed her cheek again, then moved down her jaw line to the bit of neck exposed by her pajama top.

She rolled away and sat up. "Fred…" she complained.

"What? I've missed you." I tucked a stray hand behind her ear.

"This isn't going to work." she said defiantly.

"What's not going to work?"

"When I said priority I didn't mean sex. I'd like to think there's more to our relationship than that." she stated. Well, Hermione's always been blunt.

"Can I help it if I'd occasionally like to sleep with my wife?" I demanded. "I happen to love you, and if I can't express that love…"

I was cut off for that was when Hermione whacked me in the face with a pillow and stalked off to the bathroom.

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"Hi Daddy."

I looked up at the voice and saw Maddie walking into the shop. I grinned. Even though Hogwarts is so close I don't get to see her as much as I'd like.

"What re you doing here?" I asked, coming around the counter to hug her.

"I got a letter from Roxie his morning." she explained. "She said you and Mum have been fighting a lot lately."

"It's not that bad." I insisted.

"Daddy, you can tell me." she said. She took off her cloak and hopped up onto the counter. Luckily, we weren't open yet. Sunday's are the best when you need to sleep in.

"I asked Noah, and he said Mum's been giving you the silent treatment for almost a week."

I looked at my daughter, sitting on the counter like she did when she was little, in her Gryffindor robes and dark red hair falling around her shoulders. I should be the one giving her advice. That is if Hermione would let me.

"You know me. I just did something stupid. But she'll forgive me. She always does." I assured her.

She didn't look convinced, so I changed the subject. "Why are you wearing your robes on a Sunday?"

She grimaced. "Some people from the ministry are coming today. McGonagall wants us all to look our best."

"Just be thankful she's not head of Gryffindor anymore."

"But she's headmistress." Maddie whined.

"How'd you talk her into letting you come into town by yourself?"

She squirmed around uncomfortably, determinedly avoiding my eyes.. "You snuck out, didn't you?"

She smiled weakly.

"That's my girl."

She hopped off the counter. "Need some help?"

Not with the store. But maybe with something else…"

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End file.

Harry Potter, Romance