The war against Voldemort had taken its toll on Wizarding families everywhere – even muggles were suffering despite the fact that they hadn't an idea why. Everything was a bit of a mess these days. Hermione Granger was no exception to the madness of grief. Fred Weasley was dead. The man that she'd loved most in the world was gone. How was she supposed to be okay with that? The brown eyed girl couldn't look George in the eye, not that he made much eye contact these days anyways, but that wasn't the point. Out of everyone that could have suffered, why had this miserable turning point in her life had to have happened? Hermione would have given anything to lay beside her beloved in that moment and die in his arms. They would have gone together, given themselves up to whatever world was beyond this one. That didn't happen though – even if the two teenagers hadn't been together, everyone knew of Hermione's feelings. Ron hadn't let her out of his sight. She would have done something completely barbaric, no doubt, like take her own life.
The only people worse off than Hermione in that moment were George and Molly Weasley. You know things have gotten more than bad when Mrs. Weasley doesn't leave her bed to make dinner for the 'starving' family before her. She simply hadn't the time or energy anymore. Her Freddy was gone. The baby boy that she had raised, scolded, berated, and loved more than anything was simply a memory. A cherished memory, of course, but a memory nonetheless. George sat around in his old bedroom, not letting anyone in, and not coming out. The poor bloke hardly ate. It was bad enough that Hermione could barely look at him, but how could he look at himself without seeing the face that pained him most?
Laying out by the old oak tree, Hermione found herself reminiscing. There had been so many fond moments with Fred Weasley. He had been her solace, and he hadn't even known. She'd never told him that she loved him. What would he have said? 'Oi, Granger, I knew you couldn't resist all this sexy.' Yeah, that seemed very Fred like. He'd never outright laugh in her face, of course, but that didn't make telling a man that you fancied him any easier. That was just it though – Hermione didn't fancy him. No, she loved him. She'd loved him since her fifth year at Hogwarts.
"Frederick Weasley! I swear on it, if you do not stop pushing those awful things down first years mouths –" A mischievous smile took up onto Fred's rather handsome face as he raised an eyebrow at his 'Favorite Prefect'. Certainly Ron couldn't hold that title, he was a downright traitor. Earning the role of prefect, honestly. Goody two shoes, that's what he was.
"Ah, but Granger, there's no forcing needed. The ickle-firsties will do just about anything for a galleon." Hermione was seething. Oh lord, she was so mad. Feeding Fainting Fancies to an unsuspecting child was barbaric.
"I won't stand for it!"
"What are you going to do, give me detention?" As much as Hermione would have loved to do just that, not even she would inflict upon the pain of Dolores Umbridge to someone she truly cared about. That's exactly why she curtly turned on her heel and walked away from him, out of the common room, and straight to the library. Maybe the books could calm her down, they always had before.
Hermione smiled softly as the memory came to play. Of course the books had taken her mind off of the immature Weasley boy, but it hadn't been for long. She was left wondering what it was about him that seemed to make her so angry – so angry that butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach. Was that even possible? She hadn't known then. Of course, now, she knew that it wasn't because she was angry. No, the top student in all of fifth year had fancied the older troublemaker. It was a bit of a shock to her, even a bigger shock to the one female at Hogwarts she trusted. Ginny Weasley had looked at Hermione as if she'd had three heads.
"Wait a moment, you're telling me that you fancy my brother? As in Fred, one of the twins who's spent more time in detention than out?" The bushy haired girl sniffed and flicked her hair out of her face, though it had just come back to cover her forehead with a vengeance. Bloody hell.
"No, Ginny. I'm telling you that I fancy your cousin Marvel. Yes, I fancy Fred! I don't even know what happened. It just has, I suppose." It took a minute, but soon Ginny's face would lit up as if it was Christmas morning. That could only mean one thing: trouble.
It had been trouble, Hermione remembered fondly, shaking her head a bit. Ginny had pulled out all of the stops to try and make Fred notice the bookworm in a new light. Hermione had nearly had a heart attack when she realized the other witch had pointed out little quirks about her to Fred. He'd always looked at the other red head as if she were doing something extremely illegal and waved her off. Each time he waved her off, Hermione felt as if her stomach was going to hit the floor. When had she realized that she loved him? Well, Fred Weasley was a lot of things – but he wasn't anything if not caring.
"Run for the hills, kid." Hermione watched curiously as a first year ran past her as fast as he could manage, the distinct ( and awful ) smell of a dungbomb hanging in the air. Obviously, the eleven year old had set it off. Fred had told him to run – and it was a good thing, as Umbridge had turned the corner and set her beady little eyes on Fred. He did nothing but manage a signature Weasley Twin smirk and give her a slight wave with his already scarred hand. She wasn't pleased. Hermione ducked behind a statue, watching with complete interest.
"You've been busy I see, Mr. Weasley." The dark haired girl cringed at that tinkering voice – the one she heard so very often over the speakers.
"No, professor, if I'd been busy it certainly wouldn't have been quite this simple. This was just for fun." He was taking the blame? Why on Earth would he do that? Obviously, Fred knew what detention with Umbridge entailed. He'd been there more than enough times.
"Detention, I think. My office straight after dinner." There wasn't another word said as the pudgy woman hurried past, making Hermione duck behind the statue once more, and went to the office that the fifth year had only seen once. Kitties galore, that's what that was.
"You can come out now, Granger." A slight blush rose to Hermione's face as she had the decency to look somewhat ashamed over at the Weasley twin that was grinning like a rather large baboon. Not even the imminent scarring of his hand could get this boy down. That was something that Hermione had loved about him though – he was always so positive. Then again, she'd loved everything about him. It was in that moment that Hermione realized she loved Fred Weasley. She loved the way that he laughed, the way his eyes would light up after a particularly brilliant prank, and the way that he'd just taken the blame for something he didn't do. He'd saved a first year from looking back on Hogwarts as the worst time in his life – saved a first year from having a permanent scar on the back of his hand. It was both terrifying and reliving to have realized this so easily.
"Why did you do that? You didn't set off the dungbomb." Fred's eyebrows rose slightly as he leaned back against the corridor wall, blue eyes watching brown carefully.
"I wasn't about to let a firstie get this." He raised his hand gently, the scar stating 'I must not cause trouble' showing clear as day. Hermione felt her heart give an audible thud.
"You're admirable, Fred Weasley." With that being said, Hermione gave Fred one of the many genuine smiles he'd been getting lately to his surprise, and turned on her heel to head back to the common room. Later that night he'd come back to see her sitting in the common room with a bowl on her lap and an expectant look on her face. It had been the start of a beautiful friendship.
Hermione hadn't cried in days, so why was she now breaking down? The tears cascaded down her cheeks like a waterfall. It had been two weeks since he'd been gone. Two weeks since Hermione couldn't feel a bloody thing. She was like an empty shell. There was nothing but grief and misery. Harry had nearly given up on her, Ron couldn't understand why she was so upset ( the git never did figure it out ) , and Ginny was leaving her to grieve by herself. It was all well and good, of course, they were all grieving as well. Fred, Lupin, and Tonks had all been lost in the battle. Of course they weren't the only casualties, many students and teachers had died that night. They were the ones that stood out the most to Hermione, however, and she couldn't help but see those faces in the back of her mind each time she closed her eyes. It was misery.
"Honestly, Granger, you're still sitting around here?" Hermione turned her head swiftly as the face of the person she loved most in the world came into sight. Frederick Weasley, the magnificent man that he was. He sat himself down next to her by the old oak tree. The Burrow had many different places around the home, and this so happened to be Hermione's favorite. She liked sitting by the oak tree and watching the pond barely twenty feet in front of her crash around. It was peaceful. Something to help her think, especially when Mrs. Weasley was so hell bent on keeping her away from her friends. Everyone knew that the three of them were heading off. No one knew when, however, and Hermione couldn't help the way her stomach fell at the thought of leaving Fred behind. What if something happened to him and she wasn't here to save him? She couldn't bare the thought but this was war. Sacrifices had to be made – even if it was her heart.
"I'm leaving in two days. The morning after the wedding." She could have slapped herself, honestly, why had she told him that? Then again, why hadn't she? Hermione was in a situation. She couldn't help but want to tell him everything – just because she knew he'd never tell. She could confide in this man next to her, her best friend and love, and he wouldn't tell a soul. Not even George.
"So soon?" Of course, Fred had known she'd be leaving soon – the only reason they had stuck around this long was because Bill was important to them. It was a big deal that Ron see his eldest brother get hitched.
"Yes." She sighed softly and glanced over at him, rubbing her delicate looking hands over her face gently. This wasn't how her life was supposed to end up – she was supposed to be going back to Hogwarts, maybe holding the hand of a steady boyfriend. She wasn't supposed to be running from a wizard that was undoubtedly trying to kill her and her best friends, pinning after a man that she couldn't have, and trying to hide away all the evidence of her misery. Fred could see right through her though, he'd always been able to see through her. His hand ran up her uncovered arm gently, in a comforting manner. He was unable to think of life without this girl – she'd come to mean a lot to him. Not so much so that he believed he was in love with her by any means, but she was the closest thing he had to love. She was family. She was a necessity in his life.
"I'm going to miss you." Hermione carefully set her head on his shoulder, seeking his warmth as a bitter wind tore through the night. It was going for midnight and surely, everyone else was fast asleep in that moment.
"I'm going to miss you too. Trust me." Hermione tilted her head up gently to glance at his face. The war had taken its toll on him, as well. The handsome face that she had come to love so much had lost its shine. He was always on the defensive these days. Hell, who wasn't? Carefully, Hermione ran her hand over his cheek and managed a grin when he pressed his skin into her palm. It was a brilliant feeling.
Neither of the pair was expecting it when Fred leaned down and pressed his lips hard against hers. It felt like fireworks had gone off in their heads and there had never been anything quite so endearing to happen. Hermione had waited two years for this and it was so much better than she'd imagined. Their lips worked furiously against one another, clothes flew left and right, and before she could even fathom it the two were joined together. She had lost her virtue to the person she loved more than anything, listened to his breathy moans fill her ear, and she couldn't have been more happy. If she died the next day, at least she would have died happy.
That memory seemed to be the worst for Hermione. It was the happiest memory she had to this date, and yet it seemed to make her the most miserable. Fred was gone. He wasn't coming back, he couldn't come back. Not unless someone found a time turner that hadn't been destroyed. She couldn't fix this. There was no saving him. He was already so gone.
Hogwarts was so different. Hermione looked around the quaint hallways, remembering the rounds that she used to walk every other night. She was always offering to take up peoples places for rounds. She quite enjoyed wondering the hallways late at night – no one else was around. It was peaceful. Unless you counted the frequent occasions where a Weasley twin would show up out of nowhere and she'd be forced to scolding them back into the common room. Fred always just waved her off, however, and went on his way. George soon learned to follow his brother's lead.
"Hermione." That voice. Oh, Merlin that voice. He was alive. Hermione turned to face Fred Weasley for what would be the last time and launched herself into his arms. He, in turn, wrapped his lanky arms around her petite form and held her as close to him as he could manage. She didn't hesitate to kiss all over his face, not much thinking about it as she pressed a hard kiss to his lips. He didn't seem surprised.
"You're alive." Her fingers stroked over the soft skin of his cheek, the cheek that held so many wounds that it physically pained her.
"You're the one I was worried about, trying to off Moldywart." Despite the awful situation ahead of them, Hermione giggled. He looked triumphant at the sound. Hermione knew then that if they made it through this war, she would tell him. She would tell him everything. She would tell him how he drove her wild even in the way he managed to scratch the back of his neck. Now wasn't the time, however, and this just gave her motivation to stay alive. So when death eaters started swarming the castle, Hermione forced her lips onto his once more and then started on her way down to room of requirement to snatch up Ron and go to the Chamber of Secrets.
Hermione smiled softly at the memory once again. He had been so relieved to see her – nothing, of course, compared to the relief she had felt at the sight of his handsome face. He'd seemed so warn out. Fred Weasley was exhausted in that time period, and she knew that was the reason why he'd been killed.
"Fred, no!" Percy's cry shot through Hermione's stomach like an earthquake. Fred? No, what had happened to him? She didn't even think about it as she launched death eaters away from her left and right, her own power escaping her mind as she fell to the ground next to the red headed man whom she loved so much. George was there, clutching onto his brother's chest and trying to shake him awake. Percy was using every spell he could think of to try and save him. It was of no use.
Hermione didn't cry. She didn't do anything. She just rested her hand upon Fred's lifeless one and squeezed. She squeezed his hand so tight she was sure it was going to break the bones. She couldn't let go though – he was gone. Without knowing exactly how Hermione felt, how much she loved him, he had left them. As Percy cried out for vengeance, calling out after Rockwood, Hermione dropped the red head's hand and followed after his brother, wand at the ready. She had never killed a man before, but oh god, was she ready too. They didn't call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing as she shot spell after spell at Rockwood, Percy at her side. To this day it is unsure which of the two had done the job – but Rockwood died that night. He was dead, thank heavens, and Hermione returned to the battle in full force. Fred hadn't died for her to quit.
A sad smile pressed against Hermione's lips as she once again looked back at the tree, their tree. They'd given themselves over to each other at this tree in the heat of the moment. Well, it had been the heat of the moment for Fred. Hermione would have given herself to him had his mother been in the next room. If there was one thing that Hermione was thankful for it was that she had the chance to fully love him. She had showed him, not told him, that she loved him in the best way she knew how. She'd let him take the one thing that meant the most to her and she had never thought twice about it. It hadn't mattered then that they weren't dating, it hadn't mattered that they were at war, all that mattered was that they were there. They were together and in that moment, nothing could have broken them apart.
The dark haired girl forced herself to her feet and pulled her hair up into a tight bun on the back of her head, allowing her gaze to sweep over the large home in front of her. It was eleven at night and only one light could be seen on in the house. The Twins' bedroom. Well, she supposed, it's just George's bedroom now. On a quick decision, Hermione forced herself back into the house and up the stairs, just outside the Twins' room and allowed her hand to hit the wood gently so only George would hear.
"Go away." The response was muffled, whether it was by the door or the likely situation of George shoving his head in a pillow she was unsure. Even George, though, hadn't locked out his own family as Hermione turned the door knob and slipped into the bedroom. He glanced up at her fiercely, and for the first time, Hermione met his eyes without cringing.
"I'm not going anywhere."