This is my entry for the "Three Prompts" competition on HPFC.

My prompts were "Molly Weasley," "alive," and "I have my reasons."

"Why?" said Hermione. "Your mum- she's heartbroken. Can't you tell her? She misses you. Your whole family misses you." I miss you, she added silently.

Fred looked at her sadly and then he replied, "I have my reasons. You wouldn't understand."

"You'd be surprised," replied Hermione. "I understand quite a lot."
"The brightest witch of your age," Fred sighed tiredly. "I know."

"I didn't say-"

"Yeah, I know you didn't. Just-just don't tell her, Hermione, will you?"

"Tell me why you won't tell your mum. She loves you." I love you.

"She doesn't need to know."

"Fred, she's your mum. She has a right to know." I have a right to know.

"Look, Hermione, it doesn't matter, okay? Forget it. Forget me. Go live your life, your domestic little life, you and Ron and the picket fence-"

You and me and a picket fence. "Ron and I broke up last year."

"What?" Fred seemed almost unaware of the snow on his eyelashes that made him look like some sort of red-haired angel.

It was winter. It was snowing. They were standing outside Hermione's flat, and she was wearing a cap he'd given her in fifth year. She'd used an Enlargement Charm on it over the years, always wearing it in the winter.

He was wearing the scarf she'd made him that same winter. It was lumpy and odd and reminded Hermione of that time in her life, when she thought everything was blissfully simple. When she had never seen a man die.

Fred looked at her for a moment, and then he said softly, "Hermione, I've got to go."

"Don't, please don't," she replied. "From a distance it'll just look like you're George."

"Until they get closer and see that I'm not missing my ear, like you did."

"Fred, I haven't seen you in five bleeding years! I want to talk to you!" Hermione knew she sounded petulant and spoiled and selfish, but she was beyond caring. "Don't you realize how much you've affected people by disappearing?" How much you've affected me?

Fred sighed and pulled her close until she could barely breathe for fear of crying into his jacket like a small child. She had missed him so much. "Hermione, can't you just trust my reasoning?"

"You've never shown yourself to have good reasoning," said Hermione in a choked voice, suppressing tears as she pulled reluctantly away. "I guess that's why you aren't telling your mum that you're alive."

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."

Hermione kissed him lightly on the mouth, somewhere between a peck and a childish first kiss, something that could mean anything and everything if Fred let it.

"Try me," she said softly.

"I've got to go." Fred's voice was choked.

"I'll go with you," Hermione told him. "I'll go anywhere with you."

Fred turned away, then turned back and asked, "What about your family?"

"You're my family."

Fred shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione. You can't come with me. I've been away too long, and-"

"Is there another girl?"

"No, there's no other girl-"

"Why, then? You're sensible, Fred, if you weren't sensible I wouldn't love you."

"Please don't say that."

"It's true," said Hermione simply. "I love you. Fred, I've loved you since you set off those fireworks in your seventh year."

"What am I supposed to say to that?"

"I don't know! Just-if you aren't going to stay then at least you can tell me that you love me. Do you love me?"

"Yes. That's hardly the point."

"Don't you tell me it's not the point!" shouted Hermione angrily. "If you love me, then take me with you!"

"I can't."

"But would you, if you could?"

"Yeah." Fred's voice finally broke.

"Then maybe you can come with me," said Hermione softly.

This had evidently not occurred to Fred. "You want me to come with you?"

"Yes."

Fred kissed her then, and Hermione felt a spark of hope, because maybe her happy ending wasn't buried with the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe she wasn't doomed to a fate of picket-fence life with Ron, normality and simplicity just as Ron had promised.

He had proposed to her and she had declined, because Ron wanted a simple life for her and a complex life for him. And she had wanted to adventure with him. He hadn't wanted her there.

Fred kissed her then, in the falling snow, her red-haired angel back on earth with her, and she felt a wonderful joy as she grabbed the ends of his scarf and pulled him closer.

Never written Fremione before, never even remotely interested in the pairing as something I might write, but for some reason this turned into Fremione. Hope I did a sufficient job.

Reviews?

-The Eclectic Bookworm