Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.

Written for the Triwizard Tournament: Song prompt used only for inspiration So Cold by Breaking Benjamin.

AN: My first Fremione story and my 100th story.

They were walking through the empty streets, holding hands as snow fell.

Her hand feels so cold against his warm one, but he wouldn't care if her hand turned his into a block of ice.

It amazes him how silent the streets are when they are empty and dark, when the people hide in their houses in the false hope it'll protect them if Death Eaters come calling.

But there is nothing that can protect them, there is only the battle that is coming in weeks, months or years, neither one are sure when its coming only that is coming and that it will decide all their fates.

He'd give anything to know the outcome, would Harry and they win? or would Voldemort and his death eaters win?.

Would he and Hermione survive even their side won in the end?, he'd love a random stranger to pop up in this darken street and stop and tell them how it was all going to end.

Fred thinks Hermione wants that too, because her cold hand squeezes his. If her teeth weren't chattering and grip wasn't so tight he'd swear she was cold enough to be dead.

The thought of her dead makes his heartbreak, he can't lose her and she can't lose him.

He loves her even though sometimes she chides his childish pranks.

He should be getting her back to Hogwarts, Harry and Ron would be worrying about her as they lied about where she was and George would be worrying about him.

But he can't bear to walk her back and let go of her hand, break the spell silence and the knowledge that while she's holding his hand at least he knows she is alive.