Title: A Dying Promise
Author: HoleynessAndRapier
Summary: Fred Weasley looks back in the middle of the war and solemnly swears to let the girl go.
Rating: PG-13 or T
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Spoiler Warnings: OOTP, HBP, and DH
Notes: My first again! Found myself crying over the Twins and gushing over Fremione (the fandom cycle: I always end up in Harry Potter no matter what) so here it is. This one's not far from the original (because that's how I roll). And as I was editing, I came across a quote from Ernest Hemingway that seems fitting to my situation (spoke to me on a spiritual level yep),
"Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true story-teller who would keep that from you."
Won't keep the reader waiting now so... Enjoy! And review if you got the time! I doubt it that anybody at all would still be reading HP (non-canon) shipping fanfics, but honestly I don't mind. I just thought I'd share this one-shot story and I'm proud of it. Thanks for dropping by!
By the way... bold-italicized texts mean Fred's thoughts while italicized ones simply mean flashbacks. And pardon me for any errors. And oh, Jo Rowling and Jo alone owns Harry Potter. Onward to the tale!
He stood there watching, behind what seemed left of the battlement up in the castle as fire and rage were bound together to form chaos below. The protective charms cast overhead to shield their home, their Hogwarts, were thinning away more rapidly than they wished. Fred Weasley stood there, clutching his wand, waiting for the signal - for enmity to enter the grounds - and his twin George too. The brothers were to attack from above. And while they did wait (odd enough they weren't speaking or babbling, just gaping nervously even if they tried to hide so), they were left with their thoughts. Especially Fred's.
A minute passed before George dared to ease the tension.
"You okay, Freddie?"
He chuckled instantly the moment His Holeyness asked.
"Yeah." murmured Fred, looking sideways at George.
"Me too."
If that were their last conversation, it wouldn't be bad. Not quite.
Fred turned his gaze upwards again, awed by the horrific view of smoke and embers (he felt sick admitting he was awed somehow), and thought that hardly two years ago they lit up the same sky over the courtyard. Not that fireworks and real destructive fire were that at all same.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves."
Fireworks. Hermione once said they were amazing when the Gryffindors celebrated in the common room after the stunt. He couldn't forget. It was the one time in creation that she first adored their wickedness. That and their being legends were what made Fred and George's last year in Hogwarts madly beautiful.
At it again.
There he was, Fred Weasley, thinking about the forbidden.
He always believed he had a little crush on her. Even if George shrugged it off silly as brotherly admiration (Holeyness never even had the faintest idea that her scent of books and parchment once rose from their love potion experiment, or did he?). Hermione might had thought so as well, the brotherly outlook. Perhaps it began in the twins' sixth year - the Triwizard Tournament year. Fred wasn't sure. He didn't keep track of feelings as often as other lovesick boys did. He merely skidded off with George and their inventions to take a second look. He was that unintentionally distracted.
But quiet times like this he wasn't.
Back in Dumbledore's Army he knew. More like understood. He saw how his younger brother Ron looked at her. How Ron found her more amazing as ever. And how she acknowledged him in spite of their usual bickering. Well, Hermione did notice Fred (and of course His Holeyness too if it mattered) when he was causing trouble.
"Put us in detention?"
"No. But I will write to your mother."
It's because she's a prefect, stupid. Fred reprimanded himself. Ron would've noticed too if he didn't stick his head inside his arse for long.
He knew it was too late and futile. Useless. He knew better not to take Hermione's compliments (and Hermione's existence alone) seriously. Yet he still casually forgot.
Forgot that he grinned like a madman when she decided against the rules (Umbridge's rules technically) as if to say, "that's my girl" but she never was his really. And that was the saddest bit inside his conscience.
"Who cares! It's kind of exciting, breaking the rules!"
Forgot that when Ron got in as Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and they were having butterbeer, Fred didn't even bother catching himself observing Hermione sleeping on the common room armchair.
"Where's Hermione gone?" queried Ron.
"She's there." Fred simply pointed where he had been staring at.
Forgot when she exclaimed their magic was extraordinary summer last year at the joke shop.
"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free."
George had his fifteen minutes of teasing. Longer, if not for a newfound customer who struck his attention.
Forgot when she got knocked by their punching telescope.
"Here. Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within an hour."
"It is safe, isn't it?"
"'Course it is."
George also had his share of mischievous smirks at Fred after that incident.
"Mate. You do know Ron's been secretly fancying her for years now?" George once whispered with a hint of concern that Fred was surprised by it.
"Tell me something I don't know, George." was all he could muster as an answer.
And at the close of that day, everything was back to normal. He had enough business transactions to keep himself busy.
Him and her? Never.
She's been with Ronald through thick and thin. With Harry from hell and back. Fred simply stayed on the sidelines and looked at her from afar. What's not to find mesmerizing about her?
Fat chance. I would have been dead by now if Ron ever knew. I would have killed myself if I fought for it.
The fact was, she belonged to his brother. Fred didn't have to be the brightest wizard of his age or Merlin or Dumbledore to know.
"You thinking of something, Fred?"
It took him a second to realize George had returned to talking. How much longer to wait for the signal?
"Or someone?" His Holeyness continued with his trademark smirk.
Now that, was the signal for Fred to chime in the sarcasm.
"Oh I don't know, George." he drawled on. "But you're right. I am thinking of someone. Not only one actually."
"Fleur's cousins back in the wedding I bet."
"Perv as always. I was thinking about Harry and the rest of the Order for crying out loud, you git."
"Fine by me. But truth be told, dear brother, once we come out here alive we have to immediately take those ladies out."
"Aye, Holeyness."
The twins snickered and went silent again. George, in whatever room of memories he was in. And Fred, in his flashbacks.
Specifically, of the wedding.
The reception was as gregarious as it should be. Bill and Fleur obviously can't take their eyes off each other. They never once ceased dancing. Molly and Arthur Weasley, having done with welcoming the guests, were also dancing, but awkwardly, together. Harry, disguised as cousin Barny, was talking to Elphias Doge and Aunt Muriel in the far table. Ginny was with Lee Jordan. Ron was eyeing suspiciously as Viktor Krum danced with Hermione. Charlie and Hagrid were drinking champagne nearby, telling dragon stories to the amused Xenophilius Lovegood with Luna listening intently.
"Hagrid here thought Norberta was a bloke!" chatted Charlie animatedly.
Fred and George, having finished flirting with Fleur's cousins since the ladies trotted somewhere else in the tent (they wanted to admire "ze furneesheengs" and the Twins had already run out of romantic French things to say), were now drinking the night away - their attentions fixed on the dancing guests.
That was where George's attention went to anyway. Fred was occupied gazing at the now lilac-dressed and dolled-up Hermione Granger.
Blimey did she look different.
The song ended. Krum took Hermione back to the side and Ron eagerly (rather frustratingly) went over to the love of his life to demand details (oh the usual how, why, what in the name of Merlin's beard). Fred, who already had three glasses drunk, went across the floor towards the bickering Ron and Hermione.
"You could have asked, Ronald!" burst Hermione hotly. "It isn't the woman's fault to say yes when she's clearly been waiting for someone to ask her."
With this, Ron grunted and settled next to Hagrid, Charlie, and the Lovegoods. He knew at some point or the other the Yule Ball memory would be triggered to life to haunt him if he stayed.
"Getting furious will fade the lilac off your dress, 'Mione." Fred raised an eyebrow once he was beside her. "Don't want the un-dashing Ronald Weasley ruin the stunning."
"Excuse me?" Hermione blurted incredulously.
"Not the matter." shrugged Fred and laid out his right palm. "Care to dance?"
"With you?"
"Yes. With me. Fred. Not George."
Hermione scoffed. "Are you up to something? Why not ask Fleur's half-Veela cousins over there?"
"Hermione..." Fred exasperatedly rolled his eyes. "I'm asking you, all right? And no, I have not mistaken you for a part Veela cousin. You're more than that."
Before realization dawned on what he just said, Hermione took his hand and didn't seem to care what slipped from his mouth.
Thank goodness, Fred thought.
"Just one song." she warned.
"Anything the lady says." he nodded and guided her back to the dance floor.
They poised themselves at the center. Fred placed his hand on her waist, Hermione's left hand on his right shoulder, and his left hand held her right in the most formal way of waltz possible. At last, they glided together.
It was some miracle, Fred dancing and not stepping on her. He made a mental note to thank Ginny for teaching him (or McGonagall three years back) at bedtime.
"You're... terribly good I must admit." Hermione remarked still with a pointed look.
The moment she said it, Fred returned her a smug expression.
"Better than Krum?"
"Far better than Ron, yes."
They both sniggered. After two minutes or so, Fred lifted her hand and twirled her around much to her shock. He tilted his chin back up when she, rather breathless, faced him. He gazed down on her, as if he had seen an artifact, studying her face. It just occurred to him how close they were. Their bodies. Their lips. Mere inches. Her hands warm.
And how much lovelier she was from such an angle.
"Lucky him." Fred whispered before he even barely registered he wasn't meaning to.
"What?"
"Nothing."
It's just a friendly dance. Nothing more.
Grabbing control over his furiously throbbing pulse, he was already sensing the stab of Ron's glare behind his neck and George's curious eyebrow lingering. Fred hacked his brains for the most appropriate silence breaker.
"We made a truce to dance with you, you see." he explained calmly to a more confused Hermione as though she asked for it. "George's next surely. Then Charlie. Don't get your hopes up with Bill. But Ron will. Of course. If he stops being a coward."
"Gallant." Hermione said and shook her head, regaining consciousness as Fred swayed with her.
"Mum expects us to. But we're delighted. Rare for us to agree with her on something." Fred cracked a faint grin and carried on with the dance in silence, only the song rang through their ears, but he was certain his pulse pounded louder.
As the song began to fade, his hold on her lightened. And soon enough, they stopped - though gazes still locked. Sighing, he was the first to look away.
"Thanks." Hermione mumbled then cleared her throat. "Thanks, Fred."
She smiled, the boggled mind cleared of messed thought.
"Not a problem, m'lady." Fred leaned down, his hand still clutching hers, and pecked a kiss on her knuckles. "See? Told you I'll be harmless."
Must leave now. Before I turn bright red like George's knickers.
He let her go and escorted her back - her hand around his arm. As if on cue, George strode towards them.
"My turn I suppose. Seeing that my twin left me to dance with the lovely Miss Granger without talking me through."
"Still the better-looking one." Fred mused.
"Still not agreeing." George quipped. He turned to the direction where Ron was and called, "Oi, Ronniekins! I'll have a go with Hermione, all right? Don't get too jealous, eh? You'll have her for the rest of the night anyway!"
"What do you mean?" Ron shouted back, annoyed.
"I mean don't be too loud in your room later!"
"Bugger off or I'll curse your other ear!"
"Good! So I won't hear any odd sound later!" George finished and turned to his company. "I guess Bill and Fleur won't be the only ones busy tonight right, Hermione?"
The twins laughed. Hermione slapped George's arm in protest, but resorted to uncontrollable giggles. At once, she slid her other hand away from Fred's and took George's outstretched palm.
"He may be the better-looking one," George said matter-of-factly as he and Hermione took the floor. "But I'm the better dancer."
Fred watched on, grabbed a glass at the table in the back, and smiled to himself.
The first and the last I hope.
The night went by as it was, the crowd oblivious to the interruption to come an hour too soon. Fred stood alone with mixed emotions and classified decisions when something hard hit him on the head.
"FREDDIE!" George screamed in his ear. Fred, having been lost in faraway thought, awoke as if strangled from a dream and looked out. The shield had just broken and the Death Eaters came running in the grounds.
"START SHOOTING NOW!" George ducked and Fred followed suit, casting curses down below and hitting one Death Eater.
"Getting yourself killed already?" His Holeyness shouted against the din behind the bricked battlement.
"Nah! The fun's just starting!"
"You better! On three! One!"
George crouched, ready to spring up, and glanced at his brother.
"Two!" Fred nodded.
"Three!" both signaled aloud, sprang back up, raised their wands, and blasted curses. Fred ducked from an incoming spell shot towards them.
"We have to go down the castle!" George exclaimed.
"Right at you, Georgie!"
As soon as this war ends, I'm letting her go.
Fred, ever the gallant man he was hidden behind the prankster, vowed upon himself and followed his twin out the castle battlement.
Or die trying.