Warning: Harry Potter is not mine. Also, this is an angst-genre fanfic, and it will be more canon-compliant than non-canon.
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Will You Come Back?
by: imagia-quill
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It was past midnight but no one in the Burrow had gone to sleep.
Hermione stood behind the sink, washing the Firewhiskey glasses, not feeling emotionally stable enough to use her wand. Ginny was sitting on back steps, watching Crookshanks chasing the Gnomes. The boys were nowhere to be seen. The Burrow's kitchen was so silent, but Hermione knew Fleur and Tonks were sitting across to each other on the dining table, silently waiting for Bill and Lupin back from retrieving Mad-Eye's body. Hermione hoped the two men would be safe. They had lost Mad-Eye tonight; she didn't want to lose Bill and Lupin too, especially not with Fleur engaged to Bill and Tonks just married Lupin last month.
After what seemed like days, two loud cracks were finally heard from outside, one after the other. Hermione looked up to the window and saw Bill and Lupin on the backyard. Tonks and Fleur had risen from their seats to meet the two men halfway. Hermione walked out and stopped beside Ginny who had stood up, not wanting to interrupt the couples. Seeing Lupin and Bill's empty hands, Hermione closed her eyes and expelled a hopeless sigh.
"No luck?" Tonks asked with sore throat. Upon looking Lupin gravely shook his head, Tonks buried her head in his neck and sniffled.
Hermione looked at Ginny, not sure if it were proper to continue watching the two couples. The young Weasley was staring angrily at the ground. A second later, the brunette heard Mr and Mrs Weasley came out to meet Bill and Lupin. They were talking in low voices, nodding every so often, but Hermione couldn't make out what they were saying.
After what looked like a final agreement, Tonks and Lupin bid goodbye (Lupin nodded at Hermione and Ginny while Tonks waved weakly at them) and walked out of the fence to Disapparate. Hermione followed everyone back into the Burrow, walking behind Bill and Fleur who were rubbing each other's palms with their intertwined hands. Hermione looked away in embarrassment, feeling like she was watching something intimate. Squinting her eyes at her own hands, Hermione expelled a longing sigh and scolded herself mentally. She should've felt happy Bill and Fleur were able to find love even in these dark times that could cut their lives short anytime; she shouldn't have felt… whatever kind of emotion that made her stomach churned in longing.
Love, she thought sadly. She had endured enough pain after she had lost the parents she loved, she couldn't risk being distracted by a fleeting attraction towards her certain red-headed crush. If she couldn't have her own love story like Bill and Fleur, then maybe she could save other people's love story if she succeeded killing Voldemort.
"Hermione, dear, aren't you going to sleep?" Mrs Weasley said softly, disenchanting the brunette from her reverie. When Hermione looked up, she found the kitchen was already empty but for Mrs Weasley, who stood on the kitchen entrance with a worried expression, and Ginny, who waited for the brunette to join her upstairs.
"I– I'll be there in a minute– I think I need to clear my mind–," she stammered, massaging her temple. It appeared as though Hermione's stutters already explained her jumbled mess of a brain, and Mrs Weasley and Ginny only nodded understandingly.
"Well, just don't forget to lock the door before you sleep, won't you, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.
"Y– Yes, of course, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said distractedly. Inhaling a deep breath, she continued to massage her temple. Closing her eyes, Hermione could hear Mrs Weasley and Ginny's footsteps faded away.
After a few minutes, the house fell silent and Hermione sharpened her hearing for the faintest sound of footsteps, in case Harry had another stupid idea of running away. Merlin knew how he tended to act reckless once he knew there were people in grave danger, especially when he always blamed everything that had anything to do with Voldemort on him. Hermione sighed; she hated to remember the fact that the last time Harry had followed the snippets of Voldemort's visions in his head, it had only led to a nasty business of a trap in which they lost Sirius. Biting the inside of her cheeks, she shook the thought away. It wasn't his fault; it had been a matter of Sirius' life and death, back when they didn't know that Voldemort himself had planted the thought for Harry to see. And his visions weren't entirely a bad thing either; it had saved Mr Weasley once.
But still, they couldn't lose Harry just because some snippets of a distant event suddenly found their way into his head. Not after everything they'd been through. Not after Moody, possibly the strongest Auror in the Wizarding World, died and left even no body to bury. Not after George, one of Gryffindor's best flyers, caught a curse and had to lose so much blood while flying on a broomstick with Death-Eaters behind him. Not after her parents, whom Hermione planned to tell all her adventures once they finished all this mad business of Horcrux hunting, though she doubted the moment would ever come.
She heard a rustle from outside the kitchen, followed by a sole pair of footsteps. Exactly what I thought would happen, Hermione thought to herself as she rose from her seat and walked out of the kitchen.
"Harry, where are– oh," she caught herself upon seeing Fred on the corridor. He looked a little distraught, and when he came closer, Hermione could see a blood-soaked towel on his hand as he walked past her. Hermione stifled a gasp. "Is that blood?"
"George's fine," he mumbled, more to himself. He walked towards the sink and made a slight turn on the faucet that she could only hear the soft noise of the water dribbling. "The wound just opened up again. I fixed it though." Flicking his wand, he washed the towel, dried it, and sent it flying to one of the drawers containing different napkins.
Hermione awkwardly walked back to her seat, thinking that he wouldn't stay there for long. The sound of the water streaming from the faucet was the only thing audible in the kitchen, with Fred only staring blankly at the base of the sink. Hermione, being who she was, flicked her wand and turned off the faucet from her seat. Fred turned around and looked at her as though it had been himself he was speaking with since he entered the kitchen.
"You're wasting the water," she said reasonably, forcing herself not to blush under his gaze.
"Oh," he said lamely, looking back at the sink. "Sorry. I'm not really used to see his blood. It's like seeing myself bleeding."
Hermione nodded, not really wanting to talk about the accident. Fred let out a tired sigh and took the nearest seat, which happened to be the one across of Hermione. She heard the chair being pulled, already thinking how she could excuse herself without offending the Weasley. Merlin knew how she had been infatuated by this certain redhead and she couldn't afford being distracted for the rest of the Horcrux hunt just because she had said a thing or two in this compromising meeting. However, before she could rise from her chair, she heard a low moan from the upper stories. Her head shot up at the unfamiliar noise that seemingly came from their infamous ghoul.
"Is that your ghoul?" she asked, not remembering that the ghoul ever made such a sound.
"Yeah, the same old ghoul," he said, looking more surprised to see Hermione asking.
"It sounds a bit different," Hermione reasoned, trying to regain her dignity as she realized how stupid the question was. She was about to excuse herself when Fred suddenly straightened up, a serious look on his face.
"Is that what you're going to do?" he asked, startling the brunette at the sudden change of topic.
"What?" she asked in confusion. Fred closed his eyes tiredly, before looking back at her.
"Ron asked us to transfigure the ghoul to be his doppelganger with spattergroit so he could wander about with you lot to kill Voldemort," Fred explained. "Hasn't he told you that?"
Hermione shook her head as she processed the information. She almost forgot that the Weasleys must've been told what Ron would be facing once he took off with her and Harry. The gears in her brain started to work, and she had to admit it was a good plan as she drew to a conclusion. "No, he hasn't. Guess we didn't have much time for talk."
"So, is that what you're going to do? Kill Voldemort?" he asked, and Hermione couldn't help but realized how stupid their little mission sounded to the Weasley. But, of course, it wasn't as stupid or as simple as anyone would think.
"It's not what you think we're going to do," she elaborated, a little annoyed by how people judged them. He wanted to assure the Weasleys that they weren't planning to confront Voldemort in flesh, to tell them to stop misinterpreting their mission and end themselves worrying about them too much, but found no way to do so without telling them about the Horcruxes that were supposed to be secret. "You don't even have the faintest idea."
"Neither do you look like you have one," he said, slightly cocking his head to his side. Hermione looked at him, startled.
"Of course we have," she retorted. She hated the fact that they indeed didn't have much idea how to assassinate Voldemort other than several Horcruxes to execute, which she figured wouldn't lessen the constant worry of the Weasleys.
"Well, tell me, where do you plan to head?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Fred, but I must ask you not to meddle with other people's business–"
"Of course it's our business, you take Ron with you!" he pointed out, his voice slightly louder than before. Hermione jerked back in her seat at the sudden change of his tone. Fred and George had never struck Hermione as the kind of big protective brothers, but now Hermione could see how loving and caring they actually were. She felt her eyes grew hot; she wondered if her Mum and Dad would be thinking about her now if they hadn't lost their memories.
"Look," he said with a lower tone as he cast her a guilty look for being harsh, "have you considered to work this out with the Order?"
"Harry, Ron and I have decided to go alone for that matter," she explained truthfully, blinking the moist from her eyes.
"And how long do you think you'll be off venturing?" he asked.
"That, I don't know," she admitted.
"Is Ms Hermione Prefect Granger dropping out of school now?"
She let herself to crack a smile, remembering the times she chastised the twins when they told her they didn't care about school anymore. "I know, the irony," she said and chuckled. She mused as she remembered the time when she decided to leave Hogwarts and followed Harry to hunt for the Horcruxes, not caring one bit about abandoning her education. She imagined her younger self chastising her decision, reminding her about how education should be on her top priority list. But, of course, what was the point of studying if you couldn't imply it, couldn't use it for the greater good?
A comfortable silence had settled as she lost herself in a train of thought. She didn't realize she was still smiling until her eyes met Fred's and the latter raised his eyebrows. Slapping her forehead mentally, Hermione rose from her seat and excused herself, not wanting to embarrass herself further.
"Well, I guess I'm going to bed," the brunette said and flicked her wand to put her chair back in place. "Goodnight, Fred."
"Yeah, goodnight," Fred said back, nodding tiredly at her. However, before Hermione exited the kitchen Fred called back at her. "Wait, when will you leave?"
Turning back, Hermione could see that Fred's face had gone serious again. But unlike Mrs Weasley, who looked so determined to keep them cooped in the house for safety, there was no accusation in his voice. Quite the contrary, he sounded plainly resigned to whatever plan they had made. "After the wedding, I suppose," she answered truthfully. "We can't afford wasting time."
He nodded before meeting her eyes. "Will you come back?"
Hermione looked away with guilt, the weight of the question clogging her throat. Three teenagers who hadn't even completed their education off venturing to fight a legion of Death-Eaters whose leader had almost reached immortality? Hermione shook the thought away. They had prepared, they had the key how to destroy Voldemort's immortality, and they had Harry. If they were going to die, they should've had died years ago.
"We will try to bring Ron back," Hermione answered, not wanting to promise anything to Fred that could only create false hope.
"Will you come back?" he asked again. Sensing the emphasis, Hermione turned to look at him and found him already looking at her with sincere eyes. With her mouth agape and her stomach doing a somersault and her cheeks burning, Hermione stammered.
"M–me?"
She hadn't expected what her brain registered that moment. She didn't expect Fred to worry about her, to return her feelings, to give her a gentle kiss that sent butterflies down her stomach and tears in her eyes. She kissed him back shyly, not believing that she could feel such happiness in the midst of war, afraid that the moment could melt into nothingness if she dared to do anything, afraid it was just a part of her desperate daydream.
She heard his voice again, gentle and sincere. Real. "Will you come back?"
Then it crashed into her mind altogether in a whirlwind; every other thing she had thought was only a nightmare, proven real. Harry sprawled in the ground clutching Cedric's corpse, Azkaban mass breakout, the big prophecy, Sirius' death, faces of Death-Eaters, the Dark Mark floating amidst the clouds, Dumbledore's funeral, her parents sitting with blank stares in her living room. She gasped as she pulled away, the burden of the fate of millions people taking her breath away.
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A/N: Yay, that's chapter one! So, how is that, do you think I should continue? There will be more of Fremione feels in the three upcoming chapters.