The aftermath of the battle was horrendous and nauseating. Hermione walked through the Great Hall, wincing at the broken and scattered bodies lying all around in sad and sorry heaps. She closed her eyes to the views of weeping families and broken homes that was now the Wizarding reality. Her eyes widened as she saw Lavender Brown and Colin Creevy, lying small and hopeless, Lavender lying in a pool of her own blood, and Colin looking like he could almost be asleep, but so obviously gone, so completely devoid of life. The death-eaters had killed him. Like so many others, but for some reason, seeing Colin like that hit her like a ton of bricks. Just a child, a baby. Small and helpless. Did the death-eaters really posses nothing even close to humanly compassion, some small sense of mercy?
She hurried away and closed her eyes till the image of little, tiny Colin left her mind, anxious to find out that he was okay. She knew he was. She would know if he wasn't. But she had to know. She had to feel him safe and secure, in her arms. And although he was so much taller than her, bigger than her in every way, she needed to hold him close and help him through whatever he needed.
She tugged Harry along to where she could the Weasley's gathered, all staring with blank, vacant faces down at something lying on the floor.
No.
Who had been lost? There were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, George, Percy, Charlie. No. Not Bill. Not newly married Bill. Not happy, bright, bubbly Bill. It couldn't be. No, it couldn't be. There wasn't a way that it could be-
Bill stood up.
No.
No!
NO!
She dropped Harry's hand and ran with an almost blinding speed she didn't know she was capable of. It couldn't be. No, not Fred. Not her Fred. She pushed through the crowd of Weasley's with a savage gesture and gave a blood-curdling scream at what she saw on the stretcher in front of her.
Fred.
Her Fred.
Her own Fred.
No, no, no, no, no. No, she wouldn't let him be dead. No, he wasn't supposed to go this way. No. He was supposed to die when they were both old and sleeping in their bed next to each other, holding each other as only soul-mates could. He was supposed to be by her side through everything, children, families, troubles, everything. Where were her plans going now? How could she do anything now? How could she move on with her life? How was she supposed to move or even breathe without her Fred? She grabbed at his hand and squeezed it, willing the life back into him. She shook his shoulder and screamed in his ear.
"Fred, wake up!" She shrieked. "You're not dead, do you hear me! You're not! You wake up right now, Fred!" It wasn't doing anything. It wasn't working. Realisation crushed down on her, tears rolling down her cheeks with an uncontrollable force. Her voice was now small and breaking, her sorrow and agony present in her tone. "Freddy, my Freddy, wake up! How can I go on without you? Freddy, please! Wake up Fred. Don't leave me! You promised you wouldn't leave. You promised me, Fred!" She made her voice harder like she was scolding him and it still didn't work. "Freddy?" She shook his shoulder gently. It still didn't work. She gave in to her sobs and leaned forward, resting her head on his chest. She didn't register the surprised gasps and the wail of sobs coming from Mrs. Weasley.
But she did feel the familiar hand come to rest on the top of her head, kneading her scalp through her tangle of curls.
Her head flew up, looking into the eyes that were fluttering open and filling with love. She squeezed the hand she still held and brushed the hair off his forehead, almost discomfortingly for him.
"I did make a promise, Sunshine." He told her, his old smile breaking through as he looked at her and she raised her arms to hold him. He sat up and held onto her as she cried into his shoulder. "And I'll keep it." He ran his hands through her hair and she latched onto him, promising herself she would never let him go again.