"So you're going through with it then?"
Hermione jolted, casting a glance in the direction the voice had emanated from.
She sighed, noting the sheepish and sad smile the ginger haired figure in the corner wore on his slender face.
"I'm sorry," she replied, pulling the veil back from her face and stepping away from the full mirror, walking towards him.
She'd hoped he'd given her the peace and space on her wedding day to actually go through it without getting cold feet, but she knew from the look on his face that it wouldn't be so.
"It's alright. It's not like it would've worked out between us since I'm dead," he laughed, extending one ghostly hand to tuck a stray honey ringlet behind her ear, but to no avail.
Hermione could feel herself start to cry at the gesture, longing to feel his touch once more, knowing it would be impossible.
"I love you," she whispered, "and you know that has never changed, even when you left."
He smiled lovingly down at his curly haired witch, not saying a word.
Hermione continued. "But you know this is the only way I can go on. I don't like it, and I know you don't either, but I need this. I need to feel closer to you, and Ron is the only way."
Fred nodded, sadness deepening his features, and he leaned forward as if to place a kiss on her forehead.
"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. You are so bright and kind and loving. And I wish I could've been the one to make you a Weasley, but I guess I'll have to settle for my git of a little brother to do the job."
Hermione laughed, tears flowing freely down her face, and as she wiped them off, Fred Weasley's image slowly faded away, leaving her alone once again in the small dressing room of the Burrow.