Archive of Our Own

Fred and Hermione entered Lee’s cosy flat, the sound of conversation already filling the space, laughter bouncing off the walls, the clink of bottles, and the hum of friendly chaos. The small group — George, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie — were sprawled across mismatched chairs and the sagging sofa. Butterbeer bottles littered the coffee table, along with bowls of crisps and leftover takeaway containers.  

From his spot by the kitchen doorway, Lee grinned at the sight of Fred, hand-in-hand with Hermione. “Oi! Look what the kneazle dragged in!” he called, lifting his butterbeer in mock salute. “Thought you were all talk, Fred. Was beginning to think this so-called girlfriend of yours was a charmed broomstick in a wig.”  

Fred beamed, tugging Hermione playfully closer. “You think I’d make something like this up?”  

George snorted from the armchair. “Wouldn’t put it past you. Reckon it’s about time we verified Hermione's agreeance with our own eyes.”  

“Oi!” Fred objected. “I’m not that bad.”  

George leant forwards with a grin. “Nah, if we invented a girlfriend for you, she’d be at least two feet taller and not quite as clever Hermione”  

The room erupted in chuckles, and Hermione shook her head with an amused smile. “Taller than me? Highly impractical.”  

Fred grinned down at her. “Oi, don’t listen to them. You’re exactly the right height.” Innuendo laced through the sentence, Lee watched as her cheeks flushed slightly. 

Katie arched a brow, smirking. “Careful, Fred. You keep talking like that, and next thing you know, you’ll be writing her love poems and crocheting socks.”  

“Oh, I’m a poet at heart,” Fred said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “I just never had the right muse.” He glanced at Hermione with an exaggerated wink.  

“Spare me the socks,” Hermione quipped, “but poetry? I could be persuaded.”  

That earnt a round of approving laughter from the group, and Lee leant against the doorframe, taking it all in with a content grin. There was something unexpectedly satisfying about seeing Fred so… smitten. Hermione fit right in, as if she’d been part of the group for years, matching Fred quip for quip, her quick wit effortlessly keeping pace with his playful energy.  

Fred flopped onto the sofa, tugging Hermione down beside him, his arm looping easily around her. She snuggled into him without hesitation, and for a moment, Lee just smiled. His best mate, in a real relationship — it felt like watching a storm settle into calm waters. It was nice. Fred deserved someone like Hermione, and by the look of things, she was exactly what he needed.  

Lee wandered over to the back of the sofa and ruffled Fred’s hair, grinning as Fred batted him away. “Never thought I’d live to see the day, mate. Fred Weasley — off the market. Miracles do happen.”  

Fred swatted at Lee’s hand but couldn’t hide his grin. “Oi, don't be so jealous Jordan, Granger might have to hex you.”  

“Fair enough,” Lee said, chuckling. He shifted his gaze to Hermione with a mischievous glint. “So, Hermione, what ancient magic did you use to make this idiot tolerable?”  

Hermione smiled innocently. “Oh, that’s classified information, I’m afraid.”  

Fred gave her shoulder a playful squeeze. “It’s a trade secret. Sorry, mate.”  

“Figures.” Lee rolled his eyes good-naturedly, dropping onto the floor with his back against the sofa. “Right, who’s up for Exploding Snap?”  

A collective groan filled the room. George flopped dramatically onto his side, muttering, “Bloody Snap again, Lee? We’re not first-years anymore.”  

Angelina grabbed a nearby cushion and lobbed it at Lee. “I swear, if you pull those cards out-”  

“Threaten me all you like,” Lee shot back, grinning as he ducked. “It’s the only way I keep you all humble.”  

As the room burst into easy laughter, Lee leant back into the familiar rhythm of the night. Fred and Hermione were curled up together, lost in whispered jokes. George and Angelina bickered playfully from across the room. And everything, in this moment, felt exactly as it should.

Lee smiled to himself, taking a swig of his butterbeer. For once, he wasn’t thinking about what might change or go wrong. He was just happy. Happy for Fred, happy for everyone, happy to be right where he was, surrounded by people he cared about.  

And really, wasn’t that all anyone could ask for?

It was one of those lazy evenings at Alicia and Katie's Flat — track pants, drinks, and half-hearted conversation whilst a Quidditch match droned on from the wireless. The group was scattered around the room: Alicia and Katie curled up on the couch, George sprawled across an armchair, and Fred and Hermione tucked into the corner, sitting on the floor, backs against the sofa. 

Lee perched on the arm of a chair, cradling a drink in his hand, trying to act casual. But his gaze kept drifting toward Fred and Hermione, no matter how hard he told himself to look away. 

Fred had his arm slung comfortably around Hermione’s shoulders, and she was nestled into him, her thumb idly tracing patterns on his knee while she flipped through a book balanced on her lap. It wasn’t anything flashy — just a collection of small, intimate moments. A brush of Fred’s hand on her arm, the way their heads leant close when they whispered, and that easy laugh Hermione gave whenever Fred murmured something cheeky. 

Lee’s stomach twisted with a tightness he hadn’t expected. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal — Hermione had been part of the group for a while now, and he liked to see Fred so happy. He wanted to be happy for them. But no matter how hard he tried, the sight of them together stirred something uncomfortable inside him. 

He’d always liked Hermione — everyone did. But it had never been more than friendly. Seeing her with Fred, though, things had changed, and now every look, every laugh she shared with him felt like a needle pressing just a little deeper into his chest. 

He caught himself glancing over again, just in time to see Fred drop a kiss on Hermione’s temple. She smiled, warm and unguarded, and Fred grinned like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

Lee swallowed hard and looked down at his drink, swirling the liquid in the glass. He tapped his fingers against the rim, restless and uncomfortable in his own skin. He needed to say something — anything — or he was going to choke on the feeling. 

“So, Hermione,” Lee called, a grin plastered across his face. His voice came out lighter than he felt, but it was all part of the act. “How is it that someone as brilliant as you ended up with this joker?” He tipped his drink toward Fred with a playful smirk. 

Fred laughed, not in the least bit bothered. “Oi, careful, Lee. You’re dangerously close to offending my delicate sensibilities.” 

Hermione glanced up, amused. “It’s a mystery, isn’t it?” she replied, the corners of her mouth tugging into a small smile as she glanced at Fred. 

Lee leant forward slightly, his grin carrying just the faintest edge. “Honestly, Hermione, you’re wasting your talents. If I were you, I’d trade up.” He gave her a wink, hoping the humour masked the quiet hope hidden underneath. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but not rude “Trade up? And what — go with you?” 

Lee laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, you could do better than this prat.” 

Fred chuckled, entirely unbothered, and pulled Hermione a little closer. “Yeah, she could,” he said, his voice full of affection. “But she won’t trade me in. Right, love?” 

Hermione smiled, the kind of smile that left no room for doubt. “That’s right,” she murmured, her eyes soft as she leant into Fred’s side like she belonged there. 

Lee felt the knot in his chest tighten, sharp and unyielding. He forced a grin, lifting his glass in mock defeat. “Ah well,” he said, forcing a breezy tone. “Can’t blame a bloke for trying.” 

Hermione gave him a friendly smile, he wondered for a moment if she could see right through him and past his joke and had just decided not to hold it against him. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” she said, her voice light but final. 

Fred grinned at Lee. “Better luck next time, mate.” 

The group’s conversation shifted, the moment passing as if it had never happened, but Lee stayed quiet for a little longer. His gaze drifted to Fred and Hermione one last time. They sat together, wrapped up in each other, their little world complete. There was no space for anyone else — not even Lee, no matter how much he wished otherwise.  

He drained the rest of his drink, the sharp taste doing nothing to dull the ache that had taken root deep inside him. It was stupid, really. He knew that. He’d known from the start that Hermione wasn’t his to want. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.  

Fred wasn’t even trying. He wasn’t putting on a show or making grand gestures, like he had with other girls — he just was, and Hermione loved him for it. The ease between them, the way they fit together so naturally, left no room for Lee’s witty remarks or clever smiles. It was something solid, something real. 

And the worst part? Lee wanted to hate Fred for it, but he couldn’t. Fred was his best mate — loyal, funny, and kind. He didn’t deserve anything less than the happiness he’d found with Hermione.  

Lee let out a soft, humourless chuckle and stared into his empty glass. No amount of charm or banter was going to change the fact that some things just weren’t meant to be.

Lee plastered his usual grin back onto his face and leant over the back of the sofa, ruffling Fred’s hair. “Oi, just remember, if you mess this up, Weasley, I’m swooping in.” 

Fred snorted. “Good luck with that.” 

Hermione shook her head with a small, amused smile, as if she knew Lee would never follow through.  

Because, at the end of the day, Fred had already won. And Lee? Lee would just have to find a way to live with it.

The evening at Fred and George's flat had started as a casual hangout — just Lee stopping by to see George and Hermione waiting for Fred to get back from helping Alicia with some furniture. But as the night wore on, the flat slowly emptied. George had slipped out to meet Angelina, leaving Lee and Hermione alone together, a twist of chance he couldn't have planned if he tried

Now, they sat in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the wireless filling the space between them. Hermione cradled a cup of tea in her hands, her posture relaxed, though Lee could sense she was just waiting for Fred to come back. 

Lee leant back in his chair, swirling his drink absentmindedly, and found himself watching her — again, it was all he seemed to do these days. The way she held her mug, fingers wrapped loosely around it, the small, content smile playing on her lips. 

Without really meaning to, he grinned. “So,” he said, dragging out the word playfully, “what’s a brilliant woman like you doing in a dump like this?” 

Hermione glanced up, raising an eyebrow, though her expression was fond. “Waiting for Fred, obviously.” 

Lee chuckled, undeterred. “Ah, but until then, you’ve got me. Lucky you.” He gave her his best grin, the one that usually won people over. 

Hermione gave a small, amused hum, taking a sip of her tea. “Lucky, indeed,” she said dryly. 

Lee leant forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Come on, admit it. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, though her smile stayed. “You’re relentless, Lee. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Plenty,” Lee replied, grinning. “But you’re still here. So I must be doing something right.” 

She let out a soft laugh, the sound light and easy, and Lee felt that familiar pang in his chest — the one he tried to ignore but could never quite shake. It wasn’t just that Hermione was beautiful or smart or sharp-witted. It was the way she seemed to belong.

“You’re incorrigible,” Hermione said, setting her mug down with a shake of her head. “You’ve got to find a better hobby.” 

“This is my hobby,” Lee said with mock solemnity. “Bantering with you is a full-time job, Granger.” 

She snorted into her tea, and Lee’s grin broadened. Moments like this — when she laughed at what he said, when she smiled just for him — made the ache in his chest feel almost worth it. Almost. 

“Admit it,” Lee said, tapping the edge of her mug with his finger. “I’m growing on you.” 

Hermione tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Like a fungus, maybe.” 

Lee laughed, but there was an edge to it now — a slight crack beneath the surface that only he noticed. He knew it was all just harmless teasing. He knew Hermione wasn't interested, and yet, here he was, trying to make her laugh, trying to carve out some small space for himself in a world where she already belonged to someone else. 

And then, as if on cue, the front door swung open with a creak, and Fred’s voice filled the flat. “Oi! What’s all this, then? Leaving you alone with Lee? Clearly a terrible idea. What was George thinking?” 

Hermione’s face lit up at the sound of Fred’s voice, her whole posture shifting as she stood and made her way toward the door. “Don’t worry, Fred,” she called over her shoulder, her tone playful. “I kept him in line.” 

Fred laughed as he pulled her into a quick embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Knew I could count on you.” 

Lee sat back, watching them with that familiar, gnawing mix of fondness and resignation. He knew he should be happy for them — and part of him was. But another part of him, the part that stayed silent in moments like these, hated how easily they fit together, how effortlessly they melted into each other’s space. How much he wanted to be in Fred's shoes kissing her and making her smile like that.

Fred slung an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, and she leant into him without hesitation, her laughter soft and genuine. 

Lee raised his glass in Fred’s direction, his grin playful but tight around the edges. “Here’s to me, surviving the two of you.”

Fred chuckled, raising his own drink. “Your surviving us? We're the one stuck with you, mate. That’s the real challenge.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled, “He's not that bad,” she said, casting a sly glance Fred’s way. “Though I admit, he does require... patience.”

Fred placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence. “Patience? Me? I'm delightful.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hermione replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement.

Lee watched her — watched the easy way she joked with Fred, the way her eyes sparkled when she was in the middle of their banter. And for a brief second, something flickered across his face. He lifted his glass again, trying to mask the moment with a grin.

"You're both impossible," he said lightly, but the words felt heavier than he meant them to.

Fred gave him a playful shove. “Impossible? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Hermione laughed softly, a sound that somehow felt warmer when she was with Fred. And Lee knew, in that quiet, aching way, that the joke wasn’t just on him — it was him. There was no hard rejection, no line drawn in the sand. Just a feeling, subtle but undeniable, that whatever spark he’d hoped for with Hermione wasn’t there.

Not for him. His only problem was that he couldn't stop trying to create fire from nothing 

The moment slipped away with a clink of glasses and the hum of conversation picking up again. Fred and Hermione drifted easily back into their shared rhythm — inside jokes, teasing jabs, laughter that felt effortless between them. Lee stood just outside that circle, watching the way their worlds fit together like two puzzle pieces.

He took a long sip of his tea, letting it burn its way down, dull but not enough to ease the weight pressing on his chest. He smiled anyway, because that’s what he did — he laughed, he joked, and he stayed. Even if it stung a little more every time.

Lee stood just outside the door to Hermione's office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He knew it was a stupid idea to show up without a reason — no excuse, no parchment, nothing. But he’d done plenty of stupid things for less, and it wasn’t like he could turn back now.

Taking a breath, he rapped his knuckles lightly on the door and, without waiting for an answer, pushed it open with his signature grin.

Hermione looked up from her desk, quill mid-sentence, her expression shifting from confusion to mild amusement as she took him in. "Lee?" she asked, arching a brow. "What are you doing here?"

Lee leant casually against the doorframe, trying to look like he hadn’t just barged in without a plan. "What, I can’t drop in to visit my favorite Ministry official?"

Hermione folded her arms, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips. "Somehow, I doubt you came all the way here just for that."

"Alright, alright," Lee said, straightening up. "Maybe I just needed an excuse to escape the excitement of —" he waved a hand vaguely "— literally anything else. This place has great vibes, by the way. Really... invigorating."

Hermione shook her head, biting back a laugh as she rolled her eyes. "You’re a terrible liar, you know."

Before Lee could charm his way out of the moment, the door swung open behind him, and Fred strolled in, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His eyes landed on Lee immediately, one brow quirking with suspicion.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Fred asked, crossing the room in a few long strides to sling an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. His grin was amused but sharp, like he already knew there was no good answer.

Lee grinned right back, forcing himself to play it cool. "Just thought I’d... pop in. You know, see how Hermione’s doing. Check the, uh —" He gestured vaguely toward the desk. "Magical creature... regulations... situation."

Fred stared at him, deadpan. "You? Concerned about magical creature regulations? Did you hit your head on the way in?"

Lee glanced at Hermione, looking for support. Instead, she gave him a slow, knowing smile — one that said, clear as day, Good luck explaining this one.

He scratched the back of his neck, struggling to suppress a laugh. "What can I say? I’m a man of many interests."

Fred snorted, giving Hermione a sideways glance. "And here I thought your interests stopped at Quidditch and dodging actual responsibilities."

"Oi, now that’s harsh," Lee shot back, though he couldn’t help grinning. "I’ve expanded my horizons. I’m practically a Ministry regular now."

Fred leant in, his voice low and teasing. "I bet." He looked from Lee to Hermione, his grin widening. "You coming here for her or for the creatures?"

Lee held up his hands, feigning innocence. "Can’t it be both?"

"Definitely not," Hermione said dryly, though the laughter in her voice gave her away.

Fred gave her a quick, affectionate kiss on the temple before turning back to Lee, clearly enjoying every second of his discomfort. "Well, unless you’ve suddenly developed an undying passion for regulation enforcement, reckon you’ve got no reason to be here."

"Alright, alright," Lee conceded, backing toward the door. "Message received. Loud and clear." He shot Hermione one last grin. "Just trying to brighten your day, Granger. Merlin knows someone’s got to."

Fred chuckled. "Yeah, well, leave that to the professionals, mate."

Lee laughed, giving a mock salute. "Always a pleasure." He winked at Hermione, who shook her head in exasperated amusement, the hint of a smile still lingering on her lips.

As he stepped out into the hallway, Fred’s and Hermione’s soft laughter followed him, familiar and easy, a sound that settled into Lee’s chest like a stone. But he kept the grin on his face and his steps light as he walked away.

That was the thing about moments like this — they always left him with that same quiet ache. But he’d keep showing up, because being around her was better than not being near her at all. Even if sometimes, it felt like he was standing just outside a door knocking that would never open for him.

The night was winding down, and the group — Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia — was spread across George and Fred's flat, the remnants of their night scattered around them: empty firewhisky bottles, butterbeer caps, and the occasional overturned snack bowl. The wireless hummed softly in the background, but the real entertainment was in the lazy banter flowing between them.

Lee lay stretched across the worn couch, a half-empty bottle dangling loosely from his hand. With a dramatic sigh, he tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Merlin’s beard, my love life is a wasteland,” he announced to the room, as if delivering tragic news. “An uninhabitable, desolate wasteland.”

From across the room, George smirked over the rim of his drink. “How would you know? You’ve got to visit a place once in a while to say it’s abandoned.”

The room erupted in snickers, and Lee raised his bottle toward George, grinning lazily. “Oi, that’s below the belt.”

Fred, sitting cross-legged on the floor, smirked around his drink. “He’s not wrong, though. When was your last date?”

Lee gave a mock pout. “Harsh words from a man who’s already won the girlfriend lottery.” He cast a pointed glance at Fred, making the others chuckle.

Angelina raised an eyebrow, her grin sharp. “Come on, Lee. If you flirted with someone other than Fred’s girlfriend, you might have better luck.”

That sent the group into loud, raucous laughter, Fred included. He raised his bottle toward Lee in a teasing toast. “She’s got a point, mate. All that charm wasted on Hermione.”

Lee rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “What can I say? She’s impossible not to be drawn to.”

Fred smirked, not missing a beat. “Careful, mate — keep orbiting too close, and you’ll burn up.”

George leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you even flirt with anyone else, or have you just made it your life’s work to wind Hermione up?”

Lee shrugged, unbothered. “What can I say? She’s good sport. Keeps me sharp.” He took a sip of his firewhisky, adding with a smirk, “Got to stay in practice somehow.”

Alicia leaned into Angelina, giggling. “Hopeless,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Selective,” Lee corrected with mock pride, throwing a pillow in Alicia’s direction, which she dodged with a laugh.

Fred raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Selective about flirting with people you can’t have, more like.”

“Oi!” Lee sat up with an exaggerated scowl, hurling another pillow at Fred, who caught it midair, laughing. “I resent that.”

Fred gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m just saying, mate. Spread that charm around a bit more, and you might not spend so many nights with Mrs Palmer and her daughters.”

The group howled with laughter, and Lee threw up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin was genuine. “You’re all absolutely dreadful people, you know that?”

“Maybe,” George said, raising his bottle, “but at least we’re dreadful together.”

Lee saluted with his drink, knocking back the rest of it with a grin that was just a little too practiced.

The conversation shifted soon after, moving toward Quidditch gossip and shop talk, but Lee’s mind wandered, the earlier teasing sticking with him in a way it shouldn’t have. Fred had meant it all in good fun, but the truth beneath the jokes gnawed at Lee — a truth he didn’t want to admit, even to himself. Because Hermione wasn’t just banter or practice. She was the one he kept gravitating toward, no matter how many times he told himself it was a bad idea. 

Lee stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his trousers, only to pause mid-step when he caught sight of Fred and Hermione in the kitchen, she must have just arrived. Fred was leaning against the counter, his arms loosely wrapped around her, who was tucked comfortably into his chest. They weren’t saying much — just standing close, the kind of quiet intimacy that came naturally to them. 

Lee froze in the hallway, half-hidden by the shadows, his heart twisting in a way he hated but couldn’t quite stop. He knew he should walk away — go back to the living room, grab another drink, and pretend he hadn’t seen anything. But curiosity got the better of him. 

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out an Extendable Ear — an old habit from years of pranking — and rolled it down the hall toward the kitchen, the thin cord snaking quietly along the floor. 

“…Lee’s hopeless, I swear,” Fred was saying, his voice low and amused. Lee could hear the grin in it. “You know, he talks about you all the bloody time when you’re not around.” 

Hermione laughed softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “Does he now?” 

“Oh yeah,” Fred continued, tightening his arms around her and rocking them slightly. “Practically desperate for you.” He leaned closer, brushing his nose against hers with a playful smirk. “Not that I blame him. I mean, look at you.”

Hermione’s hands rested on Fred’s chest as she shook her head, her smile amused but final. “Lee’s just Lee,” she said pointedly, her voice firm enough to draw a line. “He flirts with everyone — it doesn’t mean anything.”

Fred chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Sure, but it’s different with you. I think he’s properly in love with you.”

Hermione tilted her head, her eyes glinting with playful defiance. “Well, if that’s true, he’s going to have to find someone else to pine over. I’m taken.”

Fred grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. “That you are. Poor bloke doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hermione smiled, her voice soft but certain. “Not even close.”

From the shadows, Lee’s hand clenched tighter around the wire of the Extendable Ear, the sharp twist of longing settling deep in his chest. He told himself it was just Fred being Fred — teasing and playful, like always. But Hermione’s steady dismissal, the way she brushed off the idea without hesitation, stung more than the banter itself.

It was never a competition, and Lee knew that. She’d never given him a reason to think otherwise. Still, watching the way her entire world softened in Fred’s arms, Lee knew with painful clarity that this was love — the kind of love that left no room for anyone else, not even a friend clinging to the edges of what-if.

Before Lee could convince himself to reel the Extendable Ear back, Fred leant down, pressing his lips to Hermione’s in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Hermione’s fingers curled into Fred’s shirt, pulling him closer, and the heat between them became palpable, even from where Lee stood watching. 

Lee’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt a sick, gnawing ache in his chest as Fred pressed Hermione back against the counter, his hands sliding down to her waist. They were lost in each other — completely wrapped up in their little world — and Lee could see just how much they loved one another in every movement, every touch, every kiss. 

He knew he shouldn’t be watching. Knew he should have left the moment he saw them, instead of standing here like a voyeur, clutching the Extendable Ear as if it would give him something other than heartache. 

With a quiet curse under his breath, Lee yanked the Extendable Ear back, coiling it up quickly before shoving it into his pocket. The laughter and soft murmurs from the kitchen were a low hum in his ears as he forced himself to turn away, the image of them burnt into his mind. 

He plastered a grin on his face as he re-entered the party, grabbing a bottle off the table and taking a long swig. No one noticed the tension in his shoulders, or the way his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. That was the thing about Lee Jordan — he could always play the part, no matter what was eating him up inside. 

But that night, the ache felt heavier than usual. And no amount of jokes or firewhisky was going to dull it.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters, the birthday celebration roaring well into the early hours of the morning. Wizards and witches filled every corner, drinks flowed freely, and the air buzzed with the kind of chaotic energy that only came from too much firewhisky and too little sleep. Music from the band blasted over the noise, barely drowning out the laughter and chatter as the crowd danced, drank, and stumbled their way through the night.

Lee was drunk — spectacularly, unapologetically drunk. His head swam pleasantly, and the edges of everything felt blurred, softened by the buzz of alcohol. He leant heavily against the bar, a glass of firewhisky dangling from his fingers, trying to decide whether he needed one more drink or if this would be the one to push him over the edge. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, but one thing cut through the haze with razor-sharp clarity: Hermione.

He spotted her across the room, swaying slightly as she leant against a booth for support, her cheeks flushed a warm pink from the firewhisky she’d been downing all night. Fred was nowhere in sight — probably off charming the crowd or caught up in some mischief with George.

Hermione looked... different. Loose, relaxed, her usual sharp edges softened by the alcohol. She was glowing in the dim light, that easy, carefree glow she seemed to carry whenever Fred was around. And it hit Lee like a punch to the gut — because tonight, in this moment, she wasn’t with Fred. She was alone. And so was he.

Without thinking, Lee stumbled toward her, his grin lopsided but determined. This might be his only chance.

“Hermione,” he called, his voice a little too loud, a little too slurred. She blinked and turned towards him, a slow, lazy smile spreading across her face.

“Lee,” she said warmly, her own words coated in the thick fog of drunkenness. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you,” Lee said with a grin, closing the distance between them. “Getting completely sloshed.” He leant on the booth next to her, steadying himself. “You look like you need some company.”

Hermione laughed softly, shaking her head. “I was just... trying to find some water.”

“Water?” Lee scoffed, a teasing glint in his eye. “Come on, Granger, it’s a party. Live a little.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, her expression warm and unguarded. “I think I’ve lived enough for tonight.”

Lee chuckled, leaning in a little closer, the alcohol making him reckless, blurring the lines he swore he’d never cross. “You know, you’re absolutely maddening,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, the playful edge slipping away into something more serious. 

Hermione’s brow furrowed slightly, her expression curious but wary. She didn’t move away, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. “Maddening?” 

“Yeah,” Lee whispered, brushing his fingers along her arm, the touch light but deliberate. “You’ve got me all twisted up, Hermione. And you don’t even realise it.” 

Her lips parted slightly, confusion flickering across her face as she searched his gaze. “Lee… what are you doing?” 

Lee gave a small, breathless laugh, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know you love Fred. Believe me, I know. But every time I see you… I can’t help it.” The words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. “I just wish it could’ve been different.” 

Hermione’s eyes softened, her gaze steady but filled with something bittersweet. “Lee…” she whispered, her voice gentle, as if trying to coax him back from the edge. 

He didn’t let her finish. With a flicker of desperate hope, he leant in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss — soft and tentative. For a heartbeat, the world held still, as if it might be possible for this moment to mean something. Like one kiss would convince her to throw everything with Fred away and see he loved her too.

But then, with a gentle firmness, Hermione pressed her hand to his chest, breaking the kiss with a quiet, resolute push. 

“Lee,” she whispered, her voice unwavering but kind, her hand lingering to keep him away. “This can’t happen. It’s never going to happen.” 

Lee’s heart sank, and the weight of what he’d just done settled over him like a cold wave. 

Hermione kept her hand on his chest, her gaze steady but filled with empathy. “I love Fred,” she said softly, the words not harsh but final. “And he’s your best friend. You’ll hate yourself in the morning, Lee.” 

He let out a shaky breath, his hand dropping limply to his side. Shame curled tight in his chest, twisting painfully as the full reality of his actions hit him. 

“I—” he started, but the words caught in his throat, tangled and useless. 

Hermione gave him a small, sad smile, her gaze full of understanding but unyielding. “Let it go, Lee. Please.” 

His breath hitched as he looked at her, knowing deep down that she was right. He would hate himself for this in the morning — hell, he hated himself already. 

Lee swallowed hard, running a hand through his curls as he tried to laugh off the ache pressing down on him. “Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should’ve known better.” 

Hermione’s expression softened, and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze — an olive branch, a quiet promise that this moment wouldn’t ruin everything. “You’re not a bad person, Lee,” she whispered, her voice kind but firm. “But this isn’t us. It never will be.” 

Lee nodded slowly, the sting of her words settling deep in his chest, but there was no malice in them. Just truth. 

Hermione offered him one last look — understanding and kind, but resolute — before she turned away, slipping back into the crowd, leaving him standing alone in the quiet aftermath of his mistake. 

Lee exhaled, leaning back against the wall, his heart still pounding from the kiss that never should’ve happened. It hurt, more than he cared to admit.

Lee stood there for a moment, the noise of the party washing over him like static, the firewhisky burning in his veins but doing nothing to dull the pain in his chest. He stared after her, the image of her retreating form burnt into his mind — a reminder of what could never be.

With a heavy sigh, he leant against the booth, tipping his head back as he closed his eyes. The party raged on around him, but all Lee could feel was everything left unsaid, everything impossible.

Because no matter how much he wanted it — no matter how much he cared — it would always be Fred. And Lee knew, deep down, that no amount of drinks, no reckless moment of honesty, or kisses would ever change that.

He grabbed his glass from the table, draining the rest of his firewhisky in one long, burning gulp. Then, with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, he turned back towards the crowd, ready to play the part he always did.

The morning after the party hit Lee like a freight train. His skull throbbed with every pulse of his heartbeat, and the heavy ache in his chest was worse than the hangover. Memories of the night before sat sharp and clear in his mind, refusing to blur with the fog of alcohol.

He’d crossed a line — a line he had no right to touch — and Hermione had met him with kindness and certainty, her rejection soft but unyielding. There had been no anger, no awkwardness. Just a sad sort of finality, like closing the cover on a book that had only just be turned to the title page.

And that was the hardest part: realising that there had been nothing to lose because there had never been anything there. Hermione had always belonged to Fred. She wasn’t his to want, and the hope he’d clung to — foolishly, desperately — had finally run out.

After that night, Lee started to pull back, slowly. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden; he didn’t want to be noticed, didn’t want anyone asking questions. Instead, he let the distance settle gradually between him and Hermione, like mist rolling in — quiet and inevitable.

He stopped flirting altogether, keeping his words light and safe. No more teasing banter, no lingering glances, no playful nudges. When Hermione laughed at Fred’s jokes, Lee smiled but kept his chuckles brief, knowing it was safer that way. When their eyes met across a room, he was always the first to look away, as if breaking contact would make the ache in his chest a little easier to bear.

Hermione seemed to understand the shift, meeting his distance with a quiet grace. She didn’t push or pry, and Lee knew that was her way of letting him off the hook. If anything, she looked relieved, as though the absence of his old flirtations was a kindness — not just for him, but for her and Fred, too.

Watching her with Fred, though — was hard. It was one thing to know she loved someone else; it was another to see it, to witness the small, intimate moments that only come from real love. The way her eyes softened when Fred whispered something in her ear, the way her hand drifted instinctively toward his when he was near, the way they existed in each other’s space like they’d been made for it.

Every glance between them, every laugh they shared, was a quiet reminder of what Lee could never have. But he learnt to live with it, bit by bit. The ache in his chest was always there, but he wore it like a bruise — a reminder of what wasn’t meant to be.

There were nights when it threatened to overwhelm him, nights when he thought about walking away from the group entirely. But leaving wasn’t an option. Fred and Hermione were his friends — real friends — and no matter how twisted his feelings had become, he wasn’t going to let them ruin what they all had together.

So Lee stayed. He stayed through the parties, the get-togethers, the long nights filled with drinks and laughter, and he played his part as well as ever. He cracked jokes, flirted lightly with strangers, and never once let on that anything had changed beneath the surface. And slowly, the sharpness of his longing began to dull into something bearable — something almost manageable.

A few months after that night at the Leaky Cauldron, Lee found himself at another gathering, this time at George’s flat. The room buzzed with conversation, firewhisky flowed freely, and the familiar hum of chatter and laughter filled the air. It felt like any other night — comfortable and chaotic all at once.

Lee glanced toward the couch, where Fred and Hermione sat together, heads bent close as they shared a private joke, their laughter soft and easy. For a moment, he feared the old pang twisting in his chest, sharp and familiar. But this time, it didn’t come. What was still there — was regret — but it was also quieter now, more like a dull thrum beneath the surface.

Lee sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he let the moment pass. They were happy together, and he had learnt to be okay with that. He had no choice. Life didn’t wait for anyone, and neither could he.

With a shake of his head, Lee turned away from the couple and slid into the seat next to George at the card table. “Deal me in,” he said, flashing a grin that felt almost real.

George smirked, shuffling the deck. “Thought you’d never ask, mate.”

Lee played his hand, throwing in a sarcastic quip that sent Angelina into a fit of laughter. It felt good — natural, even — and for the first time in a long while, Lee found himself laughing with the group, not just for show but because he meant it.

He was okay. Not without a few missteps along the way. But he’d got there. Because that was life — it moved on, whether you were ready or not. And Lee had always known how to roll with the punches, even the ones that left him aching.

Maybe, someday, the ache in his chest would disappear altogether. Maybe he’d find someone who could quiet it for good.

But until then, Lee did what he did best — he played the part, smiled through the lingering regret, and reminded himself that not everything was meant to be his.

And slowly, surely, he learnt to be okay with that.

It had been a year since that night in George’s flat, the night Lee realised it didn't hurt so much. A lot had changed since then — small things, slow things. The sharp edge of longing had smoothed over, worn down by time and acceptance, until one day, Lee realised that the weight he’d been carrying had quietly slipped away.

Tonight, the flat hummed with life, the kind of warmth that only came from too much laughter, old friends, and endless bottles of firewhisky and butterbeer. Lee was stretched comfortably on the sofa, a bottle dangling from his fingers as he half-listened to George and Angelina’s playful argument over who cheated at Exploding Snap. Across the room, Alicia was heckling Katie mercilessly about her tragic dance moves, earning peals of laughter from the crowd.

Fred stood at the center of it all, arm draped lazily around Hermione’s shoulders. They were grinning in that effortless, familiar way, as if the rest of the world could crumble, and they wouldn’t notice as long as they had each other. But tonight, something buzzed between them — an excitement they were trying, and failing, to keep bottled up.

Lee had seen that look before — just not quite like this.

Fred cleared his throat dramatically and clinked a spoon against the neck of his butterbeer bottle, the bright ting cutting through the noise. “Oi! Everyone, shut it for a sec!” he called, grinning ear to ear.

The room quieted as everyone turned towards the couple. Fred’s hand slipped into Hermione’s, their fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hermione smiled — nervous but radiant, her cheeks pink from the firewhisky or maybe just from the anticipation.

Fred gave her hand a little squeeze and rocked on the balls of his feet. “So... we’ve got some news. We’re engaged!”

For a heartbeat, the room was silent — then it erupted in cheers, applause, and whoops of joy. George threw his arms around Fred, practically knocking the bottle from his hand, while Alicia and Katie tackled Hermione in tight, squealing hugs. Someone popped a bottle of champagne, bubbles spraying everywhere, and the wireless spun a lively tune that only added to the chaos.

Lee stood frozen for a second, the words sinking in. He had imagined this moment once — back when the ache in his chest had been fresh and painful — and thought it would undo him. But now, standing there with his friends erupting in joy around him, all Lee felt was warmth. No bitterness, no sadness — just a deep sense of peace and happiness for two people who had found something rare and real.

He pushed himself off the sofa with a grin and made his way through the throng of well-wishers until he stood before Fred and Hermione. Fred spotted him first, grinning wide and bright. “Well, Lee, what do you think? Didn’t expect me to be the first to settle down, did you?”

Lee laughed, clapping Fred on the back. “Honestly, mate, I’m surprised she said yes.”

Fred barked out a laugh, yanking Lee into a one-armed hug. “Me too!”

When Fred released him, Hermione stepped forward, her brown eyes warm with that quiet affection that Lee had always admired. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze — not in sadness, not in longing, but in understanding. Whatever he had thought lingered between them in the past was gone now, replaced with something steadier.

Lee smiled, his voice soft but sincere. “Congratulations, Hermione. You’ve got yourself a good one.”

Hermione’s smile deepened, the corners of her lips curving in that familiar, knowing way. “I know,” she said, her hand brushing his briefly in a gesture of thanks, simple but full of meaning.

And just like that, whatever remained of the old ache — those distant what-ifs — dissolved completely. There was no room for regret here, only joy. Joy for his friends and for the life they were building together.

The night carried on in a happy blur — more toasts, more laughter, and of course, Fred’s hilariously bad dance moves. Lee found himself by the wireless at one point, bottle in hand, watching Fred spin Hermione across the room, her laughter floating above the music like a melody all its own.

Lee smiled to himself, a quiet, content smile. It was a beautiful sight — one he might have once dreaded but now embraced fully. Some things, when done right, are exactly as they should be.

Fred and Hermione belonged together. They always had. And Lee? He belonged right here, with his friends, cheering them on every step of the way.

He tipped his bottle toward them in a silent toast and took a sip, the warmth spreading through him, easy and familiar. Life had moved on, just as it was supposed to. And Lee, at last, was exactly where he needed to be.

The reception was in full swing, the garden alive with golden light and the hum of laughter, where Fred and Hermione had exchanged their vows beneath a canopy of enchanted blossoms. Strings of fairy lights sparkled overhead, swaying gently in the warm breeze, and long tables groaned under the weight of empty glasses and half-finished plates. Guests twirled across the dance floor, the joyful clinks of champagne flutes and the thrum of music filling the air.

Lee stood at the edge of the crowd, a firewhisky in hand, watching Fred and Hermione dance beneath the lights, wrapped up in each other as if the world beyond them didn’t exist. They were radiant — glowing with the kind of love that didn’t just survive the years but thrived in them.

Awoman he truly cared for now was standing beside him, her hand slipping easily into his.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice soft as her thumb grazed his knuckles.

Lee turned to her with a genuine smile, squeezing her hand. "Yeah. Better than okay."

It was true. The feelings he once carried for Hermione had long since settled into something gentler — fondness without longing, appreciation without heartache. He had found love too, quietly and without fanfare, in someone who fit him in ways he hadn’t realised he needed.

Still, as the night wore on and the firewhisky worked its way deeper into his veins, nostalgia tugged at the edges of his mind. Across the garden, Fred laughed with George at the bar, his grin wide and familiar. Something stirred in Lee — a mix of guilt for the mistakes he’d made and gratitude for the friendships that had endured in spite of them.

Lee gave his partner’s hand a reassuring squeeze. "Be right back," he murmured before making his way across the garden toward Fred.

Fred was mid-pour, lining up shots for George, when Lee sidled up beside him, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oi, Lee!" Fred called out, clapping him on the back. "You look suspiciously sober. Fix that, yeah?"

Lee chuckled, but there was a seriousness in his expression that Fred caught immediately. He lifted his glass, tapped it lightly against Fred’s, and took a slow sip before leaning in slightly. "Listen, mate... There’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a while."

Fred raised a curious brow, setting the bottle down. "What’s on your mind?"

Lee exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as the words finally surfaced. The firewhisky gave him the courage he’d lacked for years. "I owe you an apology, Fred. For how I acted when you and Hermione first got together."

Fred blinked, taken by surprise. "What do you mean?"

Lee shot him a knowing look, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You know exactly what I mean. I was a prat — flirting with her when I knew she was yours. If anyone had done the same with my girlfriend..." He shook his head, chuckling. "I’d have knocked them out without a second thought."

Fred's grin softened, and with an exaggerated sigh, he poured two more shots, sliding one toward Lee. "Yeah, you were being a bit of a git."

Lee snorted, raising his shot. "Fair point. But seriously — thanks for not tossing me out of your life. You’d have had every right to, but... you didn’t. And I’m grateful for that."

Fred studied him for a moment, his grin fading into something warmer, something sincere. Then he clinked his glass against Lee’s. "What can I say? I’m a forgiving bloke."

Lee laughed, knocking back the shot with a grin. "A bloody saint, more like."

Fred chuckled, slapping Lee on the back. "Don’t push it, mate."

They stood in comfortable silence for a beat, the weight of old mistakes dissolving between them, leaving behind nothing but the warmth of a friendship that had withstood the test of time.

"I mean it, though," Lee said quietly, sincerity threading through his voice. "I’m really happy for you two. She’s perfect for you."

Fred's grin softened, something rare and genuine in his eyes. "I know, mate. I know."

Just then, Hermione appeared, barefoot and beaming, her hair tumbling loose from the braid she’d started the day with. She slipped easily into Fred’s side, her arm curling around his waist. "What are you two up to? Talking about me behind my back?"

Fred grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Always saying nice things, love."

Lee smirked, the last traces of guilt lifting from his chest. "For once, it’s true."

Hermione gave him an amused look, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, Fred, George is demanding you join him for a drinking contest. He says you’ve gone soft."

Fred groaned dramatically but kissed Hermione’s cheek with a grin. "Of course he is." He gave Lee’s shoulder one last clap.

Lee smiled, the kind that comes easy when everything feels right.

With a wink, Fred disappeared into the crowd, leaving Lee and Hermione standing together for a brief moment under the twinkling lights.

"You’ve come a long way," Hermione said softly, her expression kind and understanding.

Lee gave her a playful grin, the weight of old regrets finally gone. "What can I say? I’m a work in progress."

Hermione laughed, the sound light and familiar, but now it stirred nothing but happiness in Lee.

As she turned to follow Fred back into the fray, Lee watched her go with a quiet, contented smile. Everything had fallen into place exactly as it was meant to, and Lee felt at peace with all of it.

He lingered by the bar for a moment longer, then raised his glass in a silent toast to the life Fred and Hermione had built — and to the life that was still unfolding for himself.

Because in the end, some things are meant to be admired, not possessed. And Lee had finally learnt that being part of their happiness was more than enough.

And, for the first time in a long while, Lee Jordan felt perfectly, completely at ease.