Author's Note:
This is my initial chance to prove worthy of 's authors and stories. I have recently fallen for the Geormione ship and decided that I should write my own Fanfiction based on the ship and publish it. I had my dearest friend edit through my work and approve it, so here we are. I hope you enjoy and comments are always welcome!
DISCLAIMER:
I, in no way, shape, or form, unfortunately, own Harry Potter. All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you for understanding!
XxxXxxX
Dear Fred,
It's been a year since I last saw you. I cannot begin to express the emotions that I have been steered under ever since you've been gone. I'll spare you the details of the events-in case you were to feel alarmed in such a way that would startle you beyond your shell of teenage mischief. However, I have to say the key actions that have occurred-in case you were not able to experience it along side me in your afterlife.
First and foremost: I did NOT marry Ron. Unlike what you and the rest of society believed, as soon as the war ended and life was being restored, the Golden Trio decided to stay that way. Of course, like you might have guessed, there was a time when Ronald and I sat down and talked of a possibility in our future. However, I could not bear the idea of proving you, along with all the Wizarding World, right. Besides, I realized that I never did see him in such an affectionate way. You were wrong, after all. There is no one I love more than you.
I would have thought that time heals all wounds. It is a quote that is often stated in shows, plays, and novels galore these days-booming in redundancy just after the war. Despite this, I have my wounds re-opening every second of every minute of every hour of every day. I still think about you all the time, whether I'm visiting your grave, comforting George, or even working at the Ministry. I still suffer from the insomnia that is caused by not having you here with me. I have a pensieve now, the sibling of Dumbledore's, it's the only place where I can see our memories and reminisce wholly. Still, I am stripped of your presence, your laughter, your smile. Your voice can no longer call me "Granger," and your hands can never ruffle my hair in amusement. My eyes can never see you sneaking around, and my lips will forever remain absent from intermingling with yours after a long road of thoughts and emotions.
You're probably laughing at the thought of poor old Granger having a permanent crush on you. I can almost picture you shaking your head at me and pulling me towards you in a protective hug. I can almost see the mischief running through your eyes, clearly never missing a single moment, as you pull away to take my hand and lead me into a dance with no music. I miss when you do that. When you did that. Now, it seems, I end up dancing slowly, in an empty room.
Everyone seems to be worried. It has been rough on George and I-we have gone far beyond the boundaries of being stoic. We miss you incredibly. The pain of losing you is fresh every time we wake up. I want you here, Fred. I want you alive. I want you mine.
George has been the support I need to keep surviving in a world without you. He has provided me comfort and understanding, beyond the simple looks of condolences people give me. George has been my console and my reason to continue on.
I wonder why he does such things. Is it because you asked him to? Simply because I loved you just as much as he did? Or, is it because of something deeper? More than just a mutual understanding, but rather, a heartfelt and loving sign of affection? I simply cannot tell.
Perhaps, I do not want to know. For, if I did, what then? I fear I may grow to have some affection towards him. I know how wrong that seems. It's not as if I wanted to feel this way, though. I do not even comprehend the feelings at all. They're just there, haunting and looming when he is around. I have attempted to slide past it and it's grip, but for how much longer?
I think of you, Fred. Whenever I am around George, I think of you. I see a part of you in him, still alive, and I wish to claim that part as mine, forevermore. Sometimes, when he falls asleep, I pretend it's you. I pretend that you are still alive, still with me. That love that I hold for you is not just a crush. It is more-and you know it. But when I do that to George, whenever I convince myself enough, I see it. The look in his eyes.
He knows. George knows what I'm doing. Why I'm so close to him. Why I took into habit of kissing his forehead whenever he is troubled, holding his hand during anxiety, and letting us fall asleep together after emotional moments. Why I even let him kiss me the night of your funeral. It's because of you, Fred. Your absence caused this pain inside my heart. It caused me to hurt this way and to reciprocate that hurt towards George.
I am such a cruel and cold person who brings only hurt and deception. I bring agony and never-ending confusion. I am a monster. I have failed you, Fred. You told me to be better, to be alive, to be me, but I cannot. How could I? Without you here, I have no one worth living for. Neither does George. We are alike in this way.
We miss you Fred. Terribly so. All of us-even your mum. Everyone except George and I seemed to have moved on just fine, though. They are healing and bettering. We are not. What does that make of us? How long will we live this way?
I don't know how long I can do this. I'm struggling daily. The Ministry has grown absolutely bored of my antics. They have even sent me a notice to visit St. Mungo's for a checkup. Those prats. It's safe to say that they'll never do such a thing again. I quit. I am now working in your joke shop with George. How proud you would be of us. The success that your shop has experienced is unlike any other Wizarding store alive. I wish you were here to see it.
It's been a year, Fred. A year since I last saw you. A year. Time goes by ever so slowly these days. It even stands still at some moments of my life. I miss you, Fredrick Gideon Weasley, and I love you. More than you'll ever know.
-Hermione
XxxXxxX
Dear Fred,
How is it going up there, mate? I cannot grasp the idea that it's already been two years since you were gone. Time, these days at least, seem to drag on as though a day was a thousand years. Well, I think it's safe to say that, at the very least, Quidditch season is beginning once more.
Sorry, no, that sounds too conversational. And too hopeful. You see, Forge, I'm not quite sure how to start this, just as much sure as I am to the fact that you will read this. Hermione says it helps, though. She's been the reason I'm still alive today instead of bathing in glory with you, wherever you are. In case you were wondering, as well, the joke shop is a success.
Business has boomed plentiful and in less than a week, I am expecting officials and contractors to show up at the shop so we can discuss the idea of taking this business into an international level. Pretty good coming from your old Gred, eh?
I must say, though, it wasn't all me. I've gotten a hand from Verity, Lee, and even Ron, believe it or not, with handling customer demands. The person who truly deserves the credit for such a triumph, though, is Hermione Jean Granger. Ever since you were gone, she has dedicated most of her time to aiding me with the shop papers and bills. She has even dropped her job in the Ministry to become manager of the shop. Although, the Ministry wasn't serving her well at all, after what she mentioned of her boss, the assignments, and the pay. She truly does care for the shop, nonetheless. After a long Tuesday's work, when we were finishing up, she said, and I quote, "Why wasn't I doing this with you earlier?"
Oh, but Fred, if it were only that simple. It has been a year ago since she said that. And a year ago since I kissed her. Well, that last scene would have been our second kiss, had it not been for complications. Our first kiss was the night of your funeral. Do not sound alarmed brother, for it was just a rush of closure. I meant it as a form of thanks, of understanding, and of simple need to feel and be felt. She acknowledged that, and willingly obliged.
The almost second kiss, now, that's the one you should be concerned with. Perhaps it was just me, but as I watched her say those words whole-heartedly, they took on an entirely other meaning. We were closing up the shop at that point, and she was so close. She often was close, for, she knew I loved the company. This was different, however. As she turned to say that, there was something about her. I closed in quickly, placing my left arm on her waist as my right hand cupped her cheek. You should have seen the bewildered expression on her face. Her breathing hitched and her expression changed as soon as I leaned in. It seemed she was about to fall, her hands resting on my chest. All of it was perfect. So why didn't I kiss her?
I settled for this: "Thank you-for everything, 'Mione. You don't understand how much this means to me," I whispered to her as my lips found her forehead and kissed it gently. She opened her eyes and we pulled in for a hug instead, as she sought her voice. Hermione Granger, rendered speechless? Ah, yes, brother, it was one of those miraculous days.
The reason, I found out later on, as to my backing off last-minute, was the mere fact that she was not mine. She never was, Forge. She never would be. Her heart, mind, and soul belonged to you from the start. She did not see me at all. She saw the remains of you, still fresh in my memories and actions. I would never have a place with her.
In some ways, I'm glad I didn't commit to my intentions. Could you imagine the awkwardness and complications that would arise from such an action? She would have left me by now, confused and deeply wounded in a heap of bundled thoughts. I'm glad I didn't do that to you. I did not wish to place you in such a position. It won't occur ever again. I'm sorry Freddie.
Despite this, I still want to do it. I feel a pull when I'm around her. She has taught me how to live. How to breathe, eat, and interact with others without having to break down and cry. She has been my rock, my unmoving support. I am still trying to figure out whether this is a comforting statement or a one of passion, but I love her. I don't know how to stop this feeling. I love her Fred, I am so sorry. So very sorry.
I remember you told me to look after her, two years ago, before we went to war. You begged me to take care of her and never let harm get in her way if I saw her in the battlefield and if you were to perish. I agreed in a haste, laughing off the thought of you gone forever. How wrong was I? Oh, Fred. How am I to care for her now if I feel I'm betraying you?
-George
XxxXxxX
Dear Fred,
It has been three years since we have last written to you. Hermione and I, I mean. "George and I," Hermione whispered to me just now, as she is currently proof reading my work from behind me. I guess we'll have to take turns writing to you in this piece of parchment, so bear with us.
Let us begin with some news. The top news is that Ickle Ol' Ronniekins recently got married, and to Lavender Brown, nonetheless! You should have been at their wedding. The couple couldn't keep their hands off each other. A bit more frantic and desperate and they would have shagged at the reception! Don't fret-I'll spare you the rest of the details of that night, since mum practically apparated them, and their suitcases, to their honeymoon suite in Germany in an attempt to keep everyone from becoming too disgusted and amused. The Daily Prophet wrote about them. Rita Skeeter, remember her?, stated, "Struck with the tendrils of love, Ronald Bilius Weasley, one-third of the Golden Trio, has shown more than just affection for the fortunate Lavender Brown. We all cannot wait for the details of their honeymoon afterwards!" As if. I did more than shudder after the images the pressed released. After a long internal argument, I have come to decision that as long as Ronald is happy, I'm sure we can try to bear the thought of him and his wife, canoodling by the sunsets of Germany.
Well, the other news is that Ginny and Harry married-it's been a year since they did so, but better late than never, eh? Their wedding was the best and most expensive ever in the Wizarding World, beating the wedding of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, much to Malfoy's displeasure. They have grown somewhat close, surprisingly so. Could you have ever lived to see the day where Malfoy and Harry would walk together to the pub, laughing like old brothers? I couldn't believe it either. Alas, these are strange times, Freddie.
Did I mention that Ginny is now a member of the Holyhead Harpies? She's a really good Quidditch player, Harry becomes more enamored with her every move because of it. Harry is working as an Auror in the Ministry, seeing as he didn't want to be a Seeker to the Chudley Cannons, even with all the media pressure and job offers. They now have a son, James Sirius Potter, although, I believe that another son should be underway soon enough.
The rest of the family is fine as well. Mum and dad have grown to be more fond of each other than ever, since all their children are off living somewhere else, married, and/or with children of their own. Everyone is finally at peace-even us.
Yes, Fred. Hermione and I have learned how to live again. We taught each other how to move with the time we have and how to make everyday worth it. We have even taught each other to love again. Yes, Hermione and I, well...we're together.
You told me three years ago that if you were to die in battle, you would want me to take care of the love of your life. You would want me to keep her safe and to never allow harm to cross her path. I did not know what you meant by that. I assumed you were joking, and you only wanted her to be alive, even if you weren't.
You meant something different. I couldn't acknowledge it until recently. I now understand that life is more than just carrying on. It is learning to be happy. It is learning to smile again. Learning to love.
Hermione has taught me to do that, as I did the same. We mended each other. We became our other halves that we've been missing for so long. All thanks to you. Thank you, Gred.
At first, we felt guilty. We were so very conflicted, not knowing where to go from there. You see, as we closed up the shop again, during the Christmas season, George and I had that feeling again. The feeling that we knew we were trying to avoid. The weather was calling for snow and soft winds, so we decided to go to dinner. After all, we did that all the time.
This was different. We held hands, in a friendly gesture, as we always did, to a nice Muggle restaurant for a change. All throughout the courses of food, our eyes found each other and searched for assurance and guidance. We honestly had no clue as to what we were doing.
It didn't help that the Muggle restaurant was also a dance floor. Couples often waited for the food by dancing or finished their food and began dancing. As I learned, most came for the scenery, as it was, the best and most romantic in all of London.
We danced after all the food arrived. It was an act that surprised both of us. It seems that, that night was the night couples were picked to dance and examined in a sort of friendly competition whose prize was that of the restaurant paying for the food. Hermione and I were picked first, surprisingly so. I looked at her and she smiled timidly before placing her hand in mine and walking with me towards the dance floor.
It was a close fight. We won with more than just grace and moves. That meant that our stay was "on the house," so to speak. Strange, these Muggle terms.
Anyway, they ended the competition with a slow dance only for the winners. Hermione blushed as fiercely as my hair, and I could've sworn I've never smiled so much in one night. Holding her so close to me, feeling her move towards me even more, it was something special, Gred.
I do not know what came over me, although, I'm glad it did. I took her face in my hands and gently leaned it, seeing her look into my eyes and slowly, finally, giving into the gesture. As our lips met, I could have sworn my heart stopped. I could have died at that moment, just being with her made me feel like that.
Don't worry. I assure you that the dying part is not all antagonistic, although it's moments. Just as soon as I attempted to pull her waist closer, she pulled away. The look in her eyes was what killed me. She was frightened, pained, and very much nearly crying. As she began to run away from me, I thought of letting her go. Hermione was old enough to take care of herself and she didn't need me.
Then you came to mind. You were rather angry too, but not about the kiss. You were upset that I was going to let her go so swiftly. That I dismissed the built up feelings and just let her run, blinded with uncertainty and lack of understanding, to wherever her feet took her. And so, it was at that moment that I took off and ran after her. The Muggles, whom thundered with applause after the kiss, now looked on, in awe and confusion. They cheered me as I went off in search for her.
I needed to get away from George. I felt guilty and like I betrayed you, so I ran off, attempting to go back home. As I kept running, I felt the wind howl and saw the darkness enclose on London, as the street lamps lit brightly and guided me back to Diagon Alley. I kept running even more, before I was stopped.
It appeared that I had attracted the attention of four drunken Wizards at Rosemerta's pub. One of them had grabbed my arms and pulled me against him. I struggled greatly, using my knowledge of wordless spells to hex the rest of them until they were completely knocked out. The one who held me chuckled and whispered a spell in a language that I couldn't comprehend. I felt myself losing control and my arms were beginning to droop as I was near collapse.
George found me. In a way that I didn't decipher until later, time dragged on. It was as if the actions were being played in slow motion. A burst of spells hit my attacker straight in the chest and sent him spiraling towards the ground. George cast another spell that enchained him and then, the attacker was gone-apparated away to what I presume was the Ministry. As I noted this, my heart eased itself to its comfortable beats.
George eased himself before turning to look at me. Our eyes met and for what seemed like the thousandth time, his arms wrapped around me as he helped me up. I was still struggling with coherency when he started whispering in my ear and constricting me to him. When I finally ceased shivering, I reciprocated his notions and found my arms wrapping around him. I kept nodding, still trying to comprehend his quick words as he refused to let go of me and apparated me to the doorstep of our flat.
Before I knew it, I was surrounded by the cold again. The wind whistled through the space between us and the trees swayed, as if expecting something. Our eyes found each other as he reached for my hand again. Taking it, I went closer, finding my un-occupied hand caressing his cheek as he placed my other hand on his chest, where his heart was. Gulping, he pressed our foreheads together and began telling me of how scared he was, if I was okay, and that he was sorry.
I truly was scared to death, Freddie. I could've sworn that Hermione was under another dark spell that we heard about in Hogwarts. I thanked Merlin it was just a numbing spell, easily removable by the lack of contact from the person who shot the spell.
I also remember the jumble of words that rushed through my mouth at that moment of angst. I said things like, "I'm so sorry, I'll never let anything happen to you, I love you," and even, "Stay with me." Hermione, being Hermione, nodded and unconsciously began to shed some tears. I pulled her into another hug and kissed her hair.
At some point, when she finished crying and loosened herself from our hug, I slipped, figuratively speaking of course. I had said what I'd been planning to say when I first realized I loved her. The one thing I've been preparing for and imagining. "Will you marry me?"
I couldn't honestly believe George just said that. It rolled off his tongue so naturally, yet with so much promise and hope. I was completely and utterly stunned. I refused to look at him at first, until he pulled me closer.
"Marry me, Hermione. Please," George said. I was caught in the well of words and managed a single word, "Why?"
I told her. Everything. From how she made me feel alive to how I couldn't imagine a world where she wasn't there anymore to how she completed me and mended the wounds of your absence. As I did this, she began trembling, and by the end, when I had gotten down on one knee and proposed with the Weasley Ring I had embedded with tiny heart-shaped jewels, she cried.
I barely managed a yes when I sat on his knee and thoroughly snogged him, showing and proving that I reciprocated his emotions completely. He pulled me closer and we stayed at the doorstep with my head on his chest. After a minute or so, the strangest sensation ran towards the tip of my nose. George noticed and smiled, his eyes welling with unshed tears as he carefully took the snowflake from my nose and showed it to me. Looking up, I realized it was indeed beginning to snow. The first miracle of the winter.
We got married shortly after. It was quiet, family and friends wedding-although, the sneaky prat Skeeter managed to come in and take pictures as well as document the experience for the next day's Daily Prophet. She wrote, "And so the Golden Trio has finally found their soul mates. Despite this, they manage to gather and save the world from time to time. We are ever so grateful for their success and dedication. The best of wishes to the newlyweds!"
We're expecting a child now. We found out just yesterday as 'Mione was checked in at St. Mungo's. It is to be boy. It will be our little Frederick, named especially for, you guessed it, you. Our hope in the time of darkness. Our reason to move on and yet, have you with us very day. You are the reason we live again. The reason we love. We are ever so eternally grateful. We miss you, and love you. We'll see you in a few more decades. Goodbye for now Fred.
With all sincerity,
Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley