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Summary
Fred hummed inquisitively, still toying with her senses like a cat batting at a feather. “There is one part of this that I haven’t been able to suss out, though.”
“And what’s that, brother mine?”
“What exactly her plan was if we were both here when she showed up.”
Hermione froze and met George’s eyes as he comprehended what his twin had just indirectly told him; that she hadn’t gone there specifically for Fred. Her cheeks heated and it felt like her whole body flushed, but she didn’t deny it. She’d told herself before she left her flat that she wouldn’t lie to them, and saying that she didn’t want them both would be just that: a lie.
“Is that true, Hermione?” George asked as he rounded the chair and sauntered to stand in front of her. He reached out and placed a knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze again. “Did you come here planning to fuck us both?”
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This story is holiday-themed in the way that La Croix is fruit-flavored.