Author's Note: Hi! I hope you like this Fred/Hermione fic, I'd love it if you reviewed and even if you just kept with it. This fic is quite a special one for me, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it's all J.K. Rowling's.

Chapter 1

The blast had knocked Hermione flying. As Harry helped her pick herself up, a grief-filled, heart wrenching scream tore throughout the corridor. She saw three red heads grouped in the corner. She tasted bile in her throat when she realised something.

One of them wasn't moving.

Ron? No, thank God not Ron. Percy? No.

Fred. Oh my God, Fred.

Her breath hitched as she felt herself begin to violently shake. Hot tears spilled out of her brown eyes as she desperately clambered over the debris towards them, desperate for it not to be true.

Fred couldn't be gone. He was too strong, too happy, too full of life.

Ron turned to fling his arms her neck as he sobbed loudly, killing her inside.

For the first time, she looked at Fred's face. It was awful. His eyes were still open but unseeing, a tiny hint of a smile was still there but no mischievous glint or smirk that was ever present with the twins.

Hermione's heart broke clean in two.

Hermione Granger walked slowly down the familiar road. It had been so long.

She looked around at the different houses, the small, neat front gardens and the various neighbours going about their usual business. One woman even waved at her, but she could only return a small smile.

It all felt alien to her now.

She'd decided she needed to return to her childhood home to collect a few things, and to find out where in Australia her parents had gone. When she'd modified their memories, she made sure that they wouldn't sell the house, so that they would be able to return if they won the war.

She played with the cold keys in her pocket nervously, the cool metal warming subtly at her touch.

A few minutes later, she'd arrived. She stood at the front gate, gazing up at the house she thought she would never see again. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the gate that groaned loudly from neglect, and headed up the garden path.

With shaking hands, she fumbled with the keys before finally managing to unlock the door. The War had been over for a week, but she still couldn't shake off the feeling of unwariness and the expectancy of being attacked.

But nothing on Earth could have prepared her for what she would find when she entered.

The door shut behind her, the keys dropped to the floor, and so did her jaw.

"Hermione, don't freak out! Please!"

The ghost of Fred Weasley gestured wildly, but there was no danger of Hermione panicking. She couldn't even speak.

"F-F-Fred?"

He shrugged his transparent shoulders.

"Yeah,"

Hermione plonked into the closest chair, stunned. She hadn't blinked once yet.

"Why are you here?" she gasped.

"Well I thought you'd have to come here eventua-"

"No, I mean, why are you here as in on Earth, Fred? You're dead!" The pained look on his face made her instantly regret her insensitivity.

"Well considering I'm see-through, it's pretty self-explanatory isn't it?" he said harshly. Hermione winced.

"I'm sorry, I …" she trailed off when he shook his head.

"Don't be. It's true isn't it?"

"Fred,I-"

"I feel a bit pathetic really. I mean, if it wasn't for me the entire Weasley family would have survived. I mean that would had to have been some kind of record or something?"

He was joking. He was dead and he was joking.

"I think I need a glass of water," she said weakly.

"I'll get you one," he turned around and drifted through the kitchen wall. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

Three, two, one.

His head poked back through the wall.

"Oh. Sorry, I forget sometimes,"

"It's fine, I'll get it now."

She walked into the kitchen and retrieved a glass from the top cupboard. As an afterthought, she reached up and got two painkillers. A throbbing headache was settling in.

She filled the glass at the sink and threw her head back as she swallowed the pills, gulping down the cool liquid. A few drops escaped and they trailed down the length of her pale throat. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

Bracing herself on the sink, she looked back at the floating form next to her.

She couldn't get used to this.

"How are they?" he asked seriously. She looked away.

"Fine,"

"Honestly?"

She looked back at him, his eyes were pleading with her. She couldn't lie to him.

"They're not good, Fred,"

"And George?" he sounded so sad and so mournful when he said his twin's name. She didn't answer.

"Why don't you go to them?" she asked. His brow furrowed.

"I can't," he said hoarsley.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't!" he snapped.

Silence. He sighed.

"Because they will never be able to move on if I'm still here. They won't be able to carry on with their lives,"

Hermione thought that was unusually insightful for him; and very selfless. She studied him for a moment. He'd changed.

"But why come to me?"

Fred shrugged again.

"I didn't know where else to go."

"So, we need to figure out why I'm here,"

Fred was floating a couple of inches off the carpet, his legs crossed. He looked down at the books Hermione had placed in a semi-circle on the floor in front of her. She wet her finger to turn the aged, dry page of a book, and saw Fred looking at her mouth strangely.

Feeling self conscious, she quickly pulled the attention away from her.

"Well, from what I know, people who are ghosts tend to have chosen it,"

Fred looked scandalised.

"What?" he stood up abruptly.

"Well, some people want to cling to life. And it seems that it must be the reason for you too,"

Fred was outraged.

"Why the Hell would I choose this?" he gestured at his ghostly self, and ran his fingers through his no longer ginger hair. Hermione realised she strangely missed the colour.

He began to pace, well, more like hover back and fore. She knew that if he was solid, he would have thrown the coffee table across the room by now.

"It's awful! I'm stuck here, I can't touch anything, I can't eat, or sleep … do you have any idea how weird it is not to have to breathe?"

Hermione sighed.

"Okay, so it's not that then," she gave in, but she wasn't convinced. She began to gather her books and stood up, clutching the thick volumes to her chest. "I need to get back to the Burrow,"

Fred looked upset. She didn't know if it was because of the mention of his home, or because she would be leaving him alone. She decided it was both.

"Look, I'll keep researching okay?" It was what she did best, "I'll be back soon," she lifted a hand to touch his cheek, but drew it back as it simply fell through. "I promise."