Fred Weasley was the type of person to joke. He could be counted on to blast a funny most anytime and anyplace, and would always make sure to let people know that laughing cleared the soul and was the very best thing to do. But Fred Weasley also knew when to stay quiet. Say, like when he found his dead twin brother's ex-girlfriend, standing completely still and silent, a pink pregnancy test warm in her fingers, on top of the roof of his family home. Fred knew that sometimes, taking care of people and being there for them was even more important than his beloved guffaws... He held tight to Hermione as he talked her down from the roof, and he smoothed her tangled curls flat to her head. He helped to let her bathe and used one of his mother's lilac washcloths to gently lather up her back. Fred knew that she was hurting... Probably more, if not just as much as he was himself. And tonight wasn't about him. He pulled out some flannel pajamas and tucked her in bed, and decided to read from her favorite book, tucked behind the nightstand in her room gathering dust. Amidst all the change, Fred figured that some normal was good as well... Or, precious normal he figured. Most everything was different now. It even looked as if he would be an uncle... The pink color on her Muggle pregnancy test did mean a positive after all... Fred lay next to Hermione, holding her taught as finally, finally, her eyes started to show signs of life. Albeit sad life, but he figured feeling the hurt was the first step to being rid of it.
Hermione Granger was never the sort of person to show emotion... In fact, she hadn't at all since the Final Battle, when her love had jumped to push his twin out of the way of a falling wall, only to be crushed instantly underneath it himself. But that night, with Fred, and her baby, and her life all ahead of her, Hermione let herself cry.