DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter books and movies, and all content included in them, are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. So She Dances is the property of Josh Groban. No money is being made by this story.
AN: Hi! This is my first fanfiction, first oneshot, and first Fred/Hermione (of course!), so I'm a little nervous! I hope you enjoy :)
He sits in a leather armchair, the old one by the end table that she picked up for a measly twenty pounds at a Muggle garage sale.
She still hasn't gotten around to buying a fourth leg, or cleaning off those mystery stains on the left arm. The only thing stopping the chair from rocking is an old book stuffed under the front-right corner, his old three-in-one set of The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. As for the stains… He naturally gravitates towards the chair's right.
The book is the only thing of his left in the now feminine house, and typically his favourite novel. While it was the closest fit from either of their collections, he now believes she sees it as a reminder of the man who once dominated her life, but now dwells only in her dreams.
Besides, she never appreciated the genius that was Tolkien.
He stares at the familiar cover, remembering their many laughing debates on the matter. The hundreds of times they'd agree to disagree, descending into silence, before she would point out, "Anyway…You're one to argue! I saw you rolling your eyes at Pride and Prejudice," beginning the debate again.
His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock. He doesn't look up as the door swings open, revealing the tired form of a woman. She shrugs out of her coat, kicking the door shut behind her. Still staring intently at the book, he counts her steps as she walks to the kitchen.
…7…8…
He listens to the familiar sounds: filling the kettle; reaching up to pull a blue mug from the hooks on the wall; raiding a metal jar for a tea bag…
He waits for the sound of her sensible shoes clacking towards the bedroom, but instead they head for the door once more. A few seconds of silence, then two quiet thuds as the shoes hit the wall. The soft sounds of bare feet patter gently towards the coffee table, where he hears several clicking noises, followed by the gentle strains of a familiar melody. Suddenly his mind floods with hazy memories of candles and incense and love. His reverie is interrupted by a scraping noise and he glances up sharply to see his love pushing the heavy table steadily towards the wall. That task complete, she heads doggedly towards the couch but changes course as a whistle sounds from the kitchen.
She pours the tea as the music washes over the two of them, lifting her cup to breathe deep the soothing scent of peppermint. She returns to the living room and finishes moving the furniture.
He wonders, momentarily, why she doesn't simply use her wand, before remembering that Muggle habit she never managed to drop; whenever her emotions became too much, she would work it out of her system with hard labor.
As the song draws to a close, she turns towards the large, empty space now open before her. The familiar melody once more fills the air; arms assume their position; her foot moves forward and to the right. She begins to waltz; he smiles. She always did love to lead.
Her eyes drift shut as the swelling music draws her in; long-forgotten feelings wash over him as he watches her circle the empty space.
I can't keep on watching forever…
I'd give up this view just to tell her…
Wrapped up in the moment, she doesn't flinch at his cold touch as he joins her in the dance.
"I love you," he murmurs.
"Fred," she breathes. "I miss you."
They circle the room, safe in each others arms
"Why did you have to leave me?" Her voice breaks on the words and silent tears course down her face.
"I have never left you, Hermione. I could never leave you."
Dawn light stains the windows, and as she waves her hand, the final strains of music fade into the air, a simple echo ringing in their ears. He gently presses his lips to her brow, stepping out of her touch. Retreating to the leather chair he watches, eyes sad, as she walks to the kitchen and calmly empties her cold tea into the sink. Abruptly, a sob escapes her and she spins, dropping the mug to smash on the floor. Her hands fly to her mouth, smothering her cries. She slowly slides down the cabinet to sit, huddled, on the ground, knees clutched to her chest. Little by little, she begins the long task of piecing herself together.
AN: I came up with this story after seeing Ghost for the first time, particularly the scene where they dance. I wrote a basic one-shot with no names involved, but decided to make it a Fred/Hermione fic since the charming Fred is killed in battle. And yes, I know, you do have to twist the truth a little for this to work, and pretend they were living together before the final battle.
Thank you to my wonderful Beta...my sister! Thank you also to my readers!