A/N: There's nothing remotely worth reading in here, just as a warning. It's ramblings & I just like the song.

It's Daphne Loves Derby's "Midnight Highway". You should check them out if you haven't already. Yeah. Just in the mood for a good angsty one-shot…it's been one of those days. sigh…

/Dear

Your bitter goodbye is ringing through this quiet night

This idle hour just won't pass

I've never missed you this much

Never thought I would

Didn't think you'd feel this far away/

Fred Weasley idly kicked open the door of the new home of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and leaned against the railing on the porch. He could hear George curse as he tried to unload some of the boxes they'd hauled in that morning. He laughed quietly to himself as he heard George discover a smashed canary cream that had ruined his photograph of Angelina. He was never a great packer.

Fred sighed as he stretched his head back to look up into the cold, clear night at the moon and stars that seemed so very far away tonight. Fred had never been one to care a great deal for astronomy or anything of that sort of sentimentality, but she had, and now, especially tonight, the stars reminded him of her. He sighed again, thinking back on and regretting the way he had ended things.

When it became clear to him and George that they couldn't stay another moment under Umbridge's ghastly reign, they had planned the infamous flight from the castle and come here to open their own business. It was really a genius idea, sheer brilliance, in Fred's opinion, but he had overlooked one very important fact: that his best mate and, for a long time, potential girlfriend, would be very, very upset.

He remembered the night he told her that they would be leaving. It had been the very night before they'd left, actually. He hadn't planned that. Telling her had sort of slipped his mind. It wasn't that he hadn't cared about her; leaving her was the only drawback to the plan. He had just…forgotten. And then he had made the mistake of telling her that he had forgotten.

Fred hadn't seemed to do anything right concerning her since he'd first developed feelings for her, in retrospect. That was about the beginning of their sixth year. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened. He'd just been sitting there one day with her head on his shoulder like always, when he looked at her and knew that she mattered more to him than almost anything else in the world. He made the mistake of confessing these feelings to her. Mistake, because it turned out those feelings were returned, and that's where things got complicated. He hadn't had a real girlfriend in years and he knew he would foul it up. And he did. After they'd been dating for a week, she'd caught him with some nameless fifth year in the back of the library. They hadn't been together since then, though feelings continued.

And then he'd asked Angelina to the Yule Ball instead of her. He blew out air that ruffled his bangs, and ran his hand through them, messing them up slightly, as he remembered that failure. That had been after a big fight with her; he'd tried to make her jealous and his plan had worked out too well. She had refused to talk to him for a month.

And this year…well, he hadn't been the greatest person to her either. He'd dealt with his frustrations by throwing himself into his and George's business and being casually unconcerned with everyone else. Needless to say, that had infuriated her. Though they still had tender moments, they were fleeting; gone again as soon as they'd come. And that had left him here, a week later, her words still as loud in his mind as they had been then. She'd sworn him off, swore she'd never think of him again. He thought then that he didn't care, that it was better that way, but now that he was here, alone, she haunted him more than he could have dreamed possible.

/Your summer perfume is still blowing in this hallway

Autumn's amber red shadows dance

I miss our midnight rides on Highway 18

18 is gone…/

Standing on the porch caused Fred's mind to travel back to last summer when they had come to this very spot together. He'd gone over to her house first thing after he and George had gotten the lease because he wanted her to be the first one to see it. She'd appreciated it just like he knew she would, had been just as happy for him as he could have hoped for. His eyes wandered over to the old porch swing that was hanging from the awning, ready to be torn down and he remembered sitting on it with her, rocking gently, as he'd placed his arm around her and picked a bright pink flower from a nearby bush and placed it behind her ear, into her long dark hair. From what he could recall, she'd kept that flower, although it was probably long gone now…

He'd driven her home that night in his father's old muggle car he'd been tinkering with. Though it would never be quite as good as the old flying car they'd had previously, it still worked just fine, and he'd taken her up and down nearby Highway 18, always empty and always just what they'd needed when they wanted to be alone together. He couldn't count how many nights they'd spent on that highway that summer.

/So go past the lights & all the excuses

You could have left "sincerely yours"

Don't you think it's obvious I want to say more/

Fred chucked an old piece of metal that was lying on the porch down the street in frustration. He was thinking about last week again. It was her fault. She should have known him well enough by now to tell that he'd wanted to say everything to make things alright. He couldn't help it if he couldn't get his tongue to articulate those feelings again. Yes, it was her fault. It was her fault she was ruining what should have been the best moment of his life; her fault that he couldn't even say her name anymore.

"Oy, Fred!"

He turned around and George gave him a look.

"Are you gonna be helping me with these or just mooning around out there like a—wank!" George dropped to box and grabbed his foot. "Wanking tit basket! Fred, give me a hand with these."

Fred laughed and tossed his wand to his brother.

"Here, Georgio," he said, "I'm sure you know how to use this by now. Or shall we take you back to Hogwarts so you can learn how?"

George rolled his eyes, but pulled out his own wand and went back to work. Fred observed him for a while, and then, under some bout of determination, pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and began hastily scribbling half completed sentences and doing his best to tell her what was happening. He was going to make her understand.

/'Cause anything too daring to say to you

Will be said in this letter

And then burned away

So you never realize

I'm here/

Fred sighed and shoved it away. This wouldn't work. Even if he had a way to get the letter to her, he didn't want her to read it. It was ridiculous that she should know how much she had affected him. He didn't want to admit that he was that broken and that vulnerable. That wasn't the bloke she'd fallen in love with anyway.

Instead, he turned back to analyzing every last one of her words. He'd demanded to know if she loved him still and all she's said was, "Do you have to ask?"

/I'm thinking of your vague reply

So I can understand

Why we put this at rest

Why we forgot to

Say that we were leaving
Say that we were sorry

The past remains unspoken

And this vacant night is dying/

Looking up again at the stars, Fred was reminded of how she'd forced him into the astronomy tower so she could finish her final observing project and they'd ended up dancing, and then kissing, for the rest of the night. She'd smelled good. They'd spent the last half hour gazing up at the universe and she'd talked about her hopes for the rest of the year and for her future. He remembered being impressed at the serious side of the spunky, spontaneous girl he'd known all his life. But then again, she'd always had that affect on him. She made him think about things in ways he hadn't before. Thinking in general, he wasn't used to. But she'd made him do it that night.

/But I still miss your summer perfume

This cold air brings such a distance to us

Such a painful distance/

Even though it was early summer, this particular night was chilly. Fred took one last glance at the stars and sighed, turning back inside. There was no use sulking about it now. Nothing could really be done.

He and George worked for a good three hours before George declared that he was going to bed and went upstairs to the makeshift cots they'd put there that morning. Fred ambled aimlessly into the kitchen where he pulled out a drink from the refrigerator. What he saw when he closed the door caused him to spill it. George had taped a photograph of their old quidditch team to the outside of the door. She was staring directly at him, and it hit him. It had never worked out because it wasn't supposed to. She was never meant for him. Fred sighed and sunk down to the floor as this realization flooded over him.

/I'm still waiting for you to say you hate me now

So I don't have to hold on to this burning heart

This burning heart is getting old

While sitting here on this cold kitchen floor

Head down to hide the tears

I've finally realized you were never meant for me/

Fred got up and walked back outside. He needed some air. Just as he was preparing to go back into bed, something caught his eye. It was a pink flower, blowing down the street in the wind. His eyebrows raised as he recognized it. Just as he bent over to pick it up, he heard her voice.

"Fred?" It said softly.

He turned around, uncertain of what to do next. Seconds passed before he could finally form his lips to say her name.

"Katie."

/Sincerely,

Kenny/