This is my first Harry Potter Fancfitcion, so please be open minded when reading.

I own nothing but the character of my own invention, the rest belong to J. .

REVEIW!


It was late June; the morning sun was bleeding through the curtains into the living room of the second floor flat. The light illuminated the two people lying carelessly on the couch, one red head, and one brunette. Neither was asleep now, merely enjoying the close proximity to one another from how they were lying down. Her head on his chest, her wild, chocolate hair fanning out over his torso as she listened to the steady yet familiar thrumming of his heart.

His arm was draped around her waist, his head hanging back as his dark blue eyes stared at the single crack in his otherwise white ceiling.

"Fred?" he heard a voice say, craning his neck to look at his chest, his eyes caught those of his sister-in-law, Hermione.

"Yes, 'Mione" he replied, as he looked into her sad chocolate eyes. Although Ron and Hermione had never been able to get married after their engagement during the war, he did father her only child, Rose, who was currently finishing her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft And Wizardry on this very day. She had, however, legally changed her surname to Weasley through the Ministry of Magic, claiming that she and Ron had said their vows before he perished in the final battle.

Hermione had never stopped loving Ron, and it was easy to say she never would. It had been 18 years since the battle of Hogwarts, and some nights Fred would hear Hermione's cries through the wall, her screams for the lost Weasley. George had moved out to live as a family with his beautiful wife Angelina and their two children, Ron II and Roxanne, over 10 years ago. he still came to work at the shop everyday, occasionally bringing little Roxanne, his 2 year old daughter with him, but Fred still couldn't help feeling like he'd lost his twin.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked. The years had been kind to her; she was a 37 year old woman, with enough stress to send most people screaming to St. Mungo's, but not a day of it showed on her face. Sure her hair was turning grey in places and her skin was wrinkling slightly around her eyes, but Fred still saw the beautiful teenage girl his brother had fallen in love with.

"Of course I have" he scoffed. "I love you silly" he said kissing her forehead playfully, making her giggle. She pushed against him, forcing him back down onto the sofa so he was once again looking into her eyes.

"Not in that way, Fred" she said exasperatedly, the smile no longer on her face. "Not in the way you love your family, but in a proper, heartfelt way. I've seen you date girls since the war, but you ditch them after a date, sometime even two. Have you ever loved someone like the way-"

"Like the way you loved Ron" he finished for her, the smile absent from his face. He looked older, Hermione noticed, when he didn't smile, less boyish, and more like the solider he once was.

"Yes" she replied, trying desperately to keep her voice from wavering. "Like the way I love Ron" Fred didn't miss the emphasis she put on the tense of the word. Love, not past tense, but present. But he didn't correct her, he understood her, Fred knew all too well what it was like to love someone who was already lost.

"I do, yes" he replied, shifting slightly so he was sat up, Hermione now sitting beside him. Her hair was wild from sleep, her cheeks tinged pink by the summer's heat.

"I don't understand" she replied, looking at the brother she loved as much, maybe even more than her others. More than Harry, more then George. Hermione always felt some sort of connection with Fred Weasley. Nothing romantic, nothing like that at all, but ever since the war they seemed more on the same wavelength, tuned to the same frequencies.

They could lie together like they had that morning and not have it be weird or awkward the next day, they would never question when the other cried or screamed in the night, they would only comfort and care for them. They never enquired where the other went sometimes when they arrived home at five in the morning, yet they always waited up. It was almost as through they feared the other would never return.

"I love someone the way you love Ron" he clarified. His head was rested on his hands; his knee's propping up his elbows as she stared at the floor. "Unconditionally and unquestionably"

"Who is she?" Hermione asked, her hand resting on the redheads shoulder, attempting to coax him into looking at her, to explain and share the burden.

"I said I love her, like you love Ron" he said, finally bringing his dark blue eyes to meet her brown. She stared into them and for the first time ever, Hermione was anxious looking at them. The pain and agony swimming in those sapphire eyes, the anger and fury, it was enough to make Hermione back up slightly, a shiver running down her spine.

Never had she seen Fred Weasley, the joker, the second part of the dynamic duo, look so cold. "So the question isn't 'Who is she?'" He half spat. "The question is" and he looked away, clenching his eyes shut, locking away everything he was feeling. He knew never to take his anger out on Hermione, that was their unspoken rule, though they were both grieving, you never used the other to vent your anger, you only comforted. "Who was she" he finally breathed out.

"Fred, I'm so sorry" Hermione gasped, wrapping her still skinny arms around his shoulders, her hand rubbing soothing patterns on the redheads back. "I didn't know" she cooed and she gently rocked him like he was a frightened child.

"I know you didn't" he replied, his voice sounded hoarse and choked, the voice someone got when they were holding back tears. "No one did, not really" they were silent after that, Fred sat staring at the floor; Hermione worked her hardest to comfort him with what little knowledge of this subject she had. Fred had comforted her perfectly, but he was suffering the same loss, she knew what it was that was missing from her life. How could she help him to grieve for someone she didn't even know the name of?

"You can ask me now" Fred said as he sat up, leaning his body against the back of the couch, acting as though he wanted it to swallow him whole.

"Who was she" Hermione asked tentatively, not wanting to press to hard on the fragile man. Too many nights she had been kept up by her nightmares, echoes of the war, and when it wasn't her screaming, it was him. She assumed it was the loss of Ron and the war as a whole that plagued Fred's dreams; never had she imagined he had lost somebody else, someone who meant so much more.

"Rose-marie Greengrass" he said proudly, smiling sadly at the name and all the memories it held as he stared longingly at nothing. "And she was the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, and dare I say, bravest Slytherin that I have ever met." He stopped, taking a deep breath before he looked Hermione in the eyes again. "And I loved her, until the very end"

"I never knew, Fred" she said, her voice filled with regret and sorrow as her heart leapt out for this man. "Merlin, I feel so bad" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Don't feel bad 'Mione, only George knew about her really, and mum and dad" he added as an after thought. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Fred cut her off. "And Bill and Fleur."

"Any body else you want to add to the list" she said sarcastically.

"Well if you really want to know" he said with his boyish grin back on his face, holding up his hand as though he intended to tick people off as he went.

"No I don't" Hermione said putting her hand up to silence him. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Tell you what I do want though" she said to him, her eyes fluttering closed.

"What's that?" Fred asked draping an arm around her shoulder carelessly, the way a brother would.

"To pass the time until we pick up Rose tonight" She felt, rather than heard Fred's agreement to that. "Tell me a story, Fred" she said quietly as her head nestled into Fred's shoulder.

"Any preferences?" he asked jokily. When he felt her head shake, he thought for a second. "Okay then" he said with a deep breath "How about this one. This is the story of the Slytherin Princess and her Gryffindor Prince"


I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts School, which would have been your third, and we were in the second week of term. Every year since I started at Hogwarts school, me and George decided we would throw a prank to 'Christian' the school as we called it, a little welcome home thing if you wish. Just a little something to remind the students where they were and who was with them, our legacy.

So it was a fifth year and previously our start of year pranks had been slightly, well, dull. Flooding the second floor toilets and dying all the Slytherin bed curtains red was as good as it ever got for us really, but not this year, this year was going to affect everyone, no individual target, no one was going to be left out of this one. At least that was my plan.

So there we were, me and George, throwing water balloons filled with colour changing ink off the banisters onto unknowing students below as they went for their breakfast. Most of the students travelled in tight clusters, exchanging stories about their summer holidays, which wizard band was or was not cool at the moment, who liked who and other trivial and boring stuff, nothing to interest me or George.

That's when this single student walked through, no friends, no fellow students with her, she was completely alone. She didn't have a robe or a tie to signify her house, only a modest, slightly tight shirt; grey pleated skirt stopping about her mid thigh and socks up to her knees, all I knew was she wasn't in my year. Her luscious chocolate covered hair fell to her waist in soft, delicate waves, not quite curly, yet not straight either. She was tall from what I could tell, slim and curving where she should have been with skin so pale it put us Weasley's to shame, and we're all pretty pasty.

So I braced myself to throw the first balloon, I don't remember the colour or anything like that, only that I had the best shot of her head I could have asked for. Her back was turned; she didn't even notice us or the flickering colours of ink surrounding her as she walked. I held my breath, ready to throw it, ready to hit the back of her beautiful hair and all I remembered was George urging me on and someone else's voice at my ear.

"I wouldn't if I were you" it said. I turned around, trying not to move from my perfect throwing stance, and saw Peeves, our ever faithful pranking partner floating about five feet off the floor, juggling two ink filled balloons in his non-existent hands.

"Do you mind?" I replied, eying the poltergeist sceptically, trying not to let his words affect or intrigue me the way they were. Me and George, we pranked anyone and everyone in this school, why should we discriminate someone from another person, that's just unfair pranking on our part.

"I wouldn't prank Miss Greengrass if I were you" he snickered knowingly at me, his eyes indicating to the faceless brunette, previously my target.

"And why not?" George interrupted as I tried to keep my eyes on the poltergeist, not my newest target.

"Because, little Weasley's" he snickered again "there's only one person in this school who's as good a prankster as you two are, who also has a lust for revenge, and that is Rose-marie Greengrass" and he floated away, just like that, the goofy smile still on his face.

Slightly puzzled and confused, I turned back to release more balloons on the un-expecting students. Instead, I was greeted by Rose-marie Greengrass's light blue eyes meeting with mine. It was hard to tell from a distance, but she looked like an incredibly attractive girl. Curvy body, long legs that seem to never end, hair that shined in the flickering candle light, a soft, curved face with rosy cheeks and bright eyes filled with mischief.

She was stood with her arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the greats halls doorway as she gazed up at where me and George were standing. She was smiling, or maybe it was smirking, it was hard to distinguish from this distance. All I knew was this was my kind of girl.

She blew a kiss in Peeve's direction, which he then caught and held to his chest, followed by a wink at who I still to this day swear to have been me, George thinks otherwise of course. And then she walked off, just like that into the great hall to join everyone else, her friends presumably. I didn't even know what house she was in.

"So that's our competition then Forge?" I heard George say as he threw an arm carelessly over my shoulder. "I think we can take her" he said cockily, the way all Gryffindor's do when faced with a challenge. I however thought differently, something about her smile, and the way her eyes gleamed with mischief and anticipation. Yes, she was definitely my kind of girl.

"Frederick and George Weasley" came the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall from the base of the stairs.

"Yes Minerva?" George said, receiving him a scowl from the elderly witch as she continued to ascend the stairs.

"That's Professor, to you two boys" she snapped, crossing her robed arms in front of her "Detention, for both of you, this Friday" she said once she'd reached us. We, not too willing to annoy McGonagall on the second week back, nodded and gave a mock salute before fleeing down the stairs and joining the sea of red and gold for our breakfast, and ii couldn't help keeping a watchful eye out for a pair of shimmering blue eyes as me and George stuffed our faces.

Mind you, that wasn't the first time I ever saw Rose-marie Greengrass, and if me and George had anything to do with it, it sure as Merlin wouldn't be the last.


"So that's how you met her, then?" Hermione enquired, her head no longer resting on Fred's shoulder as she sat next to him on the sofa. "A wink from across the entrance hall?"

"If you'd let me finish the story" Fred interrupted "You'd know that's not how we met, that was a whole other adventure" Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, huffing like a stropping child, effectively blowing a brown ringlet from her face.

"How did you two meet then?" Hermione nagged, nudging Fred gently by bashing her knee against his own.

"I was getting to that, woman" Fred said, feigning offence "Girls, honestly" he huffed, gaining him a surprisingly strong punch to the upper arm. "Ow! Okay, okay, I'll tell the rest" he said rubbing his likely bruised arm. "Now, where was I?"