A/N: I put this up before it's time because Fred Weasley was trending on Twitter and I got this rush about how much I love Fred and how much I love Fred with Hermione. There are three rules:

1. First Person Point-of-View - Fred's

2. Wait. Nope. Just one rule.

Basically a What-If something ELSE happened during the wedding story.

Saving Hermione Granger

Chapter One

What have I done...?

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the bright blue sky. Cloudless thing. I couldn't understand. I couldn't believe it. One minute I was at his Bill's great day. One minute I was drinking butterbeer next to George, both of us chortling at a joke. Veelas were eyeing us with interest, more to George's pleasure than mine. People were dancing.

The next thing he knew, a lynx appeared, blasting about how the ministry had fallen and death eaters were on their way. I remember everything easily after that. Everything was in slow motion for me. Blackening figures were growing nearer. Guests started shrieking and apparating. Some of them a little too stunned to even attempt. I himself had turned rigid at that point. Then I saw her.

Granger, yelling out to Harry. She'd thrown her purse overhead and Harry had caught it, the seeker that he was. He called out to Granger, who was fighting back tears as she screamed at him to leave. Ron was at Harry's side, both of them looking like brothers with the same red hair. Both men were hesitant. But then a few of the black figures were materializing in. In a moment, it would be too late. Harry gripped Ron by the shoulder and the two disappeared. Then there was Hermione. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed as she stood, trembling, not even holding her wand properly. She looked shocked at herself. Had she really let Harry and Ron leave without her? Start on their journey without her? Without her?

I knew he only had a bare handful of seconds to act. One of the death eaters had already fired a curse towards Bill. George was running to get Ginny. And I was staring at Hermione, lost in the crowd, going unnoticed. Then she turned, quickly taking off her heels, and began to run. I followed her, my mind coming to some conclusion or the other. She managed her way into the field that Ginny and Harry had run into barely a year ago. She was finding another way out, knowing apparating was out of the question. Too many death eaters were appearing. But I was following her. I caught up eventually, both of us colliding and landing in the warm water. She yelped, I pulled her and we were both in a heap.

"Crucio!" cried a harsh voice. Death eater, I found myself thinking as I looked into Hermione's frantic eyes. A part of me thought we were done for. Another part of me thought we had a fighting chance. But then Hermione had cast a spell on me. I could barely react. She pushed me off her, but whispered that I hold onto her ankle. Then she stood and I did as she said.

"Expelliarmus!" she whispered, her spell rustling through the crop.

"Fred, go back. Go," she urged me, on the verge of losing it as she pulled herself away from me. I cast the counter-curse on myself, looking at her as she made her way through the reeds. I could hear further rustling as more death eaters made their way.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

And then I was on my feet, running, just as the "Avada Kedavra!" sounded out. I tackled Hermione, who had turned to face the sound of the spell. My arms went around her waist as I tried to bring her down and out of harm's way. Her arms went around my neck, and then we were spinning.

But just for a moment.

Next thing I knew, she hit the ground with a loud thud, her head coming in contact with it. She cringed as the pain spread, and I found myself pressed against her. She was giving out short breaths. I knew I was too. I could feel the sweat prickling, mingling with the tips of my hair.

And then I rolled off of her, and found myself staring at the clear blue sky...where this story began.

Hermione took a while to steady her breathing. Then she sat up, and propped her arms on her knees and hid her face in them, still trying to calm herself. I sat up as well, and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. My heart was beating too fast. That was too close. Crucio was one thing...but Avada Kedavra was a complete other.

"Granger," I said to her finally, surprised at how dry my mouth felt. "Granger."

"Did they see you?" she murmured to me.

I shook my head, then realized she wasn't looking at me. "No," I said, filling the silence.

She looked up at me, teary eyed. "I'm so sorry, Fred."

I shook my head. "No. I followed you. Should have known what I was getting myself into," I said, before smirking.

She smiled slightly, but that was gone just as quick as it had come.

"We shouldn't return to the Burrow," I told her.

She nodded in agreement.

"And the apartment above the shop probably isn't safe either."

She nodded again, staring at the ground.

I started thinking up possible places for us to stay in. Muriel's popped into my mind, a thought I gingerly pushed to the furthest back as the least liked and last sorted resort. It was getting a little too quiet. My hand hadn't left Hermione's shoulder. I found my thoughts drifting to my family. Merlin.

"We can go to my parents' house," Hermione finally said, the thought sounding heavy. "I don't...I don't think they'll go there."

"Yeah, okay," I told her. I gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood. She followed, taking a deep breath before I clasped her hand and we were spinning again. We appeared, looking very out of place on one of those suburbians. Green grace. White picket fence. Beautiful garden. Beautiful house. Hermione pointed her wand at the door knob and gave it a good "Alohomora!"

The lock made a sound and then she put her hand on the knob, turning it. I could tell she was holding her breath in as she swung the door open, practically pushing it forward. She refused to take a step inside. She was gazing at the house forlornly, her brown eyes looking troubled.

"Go in," she told me after a moment. "I'll cast a few protective spells on the house. There's a bathroom. Just go up and then left - the last door. Towels and toiletries in the cupboard inside. Take a shower, and I'll go get my father's clothes. You can wear them...we can just shrink them if they're too big..." her voice trailed off. She was staring at the street now.

I nodded, wondering if she could see me or not, but then she turned and smiled weakly. I didn't know what I was doing. Why was I doing things I knew nothing of? But I did lean in, and give her a brief kiss on the forehead, trying to be reassuring. But she was blushing, and I knew the back of my neck was starting to redden, so I just winked at her and walked into the house, earning a smile from Hermione Granger.

I walked up the stairs, and towards the bathroom and took a quick shower. Towels and toiletries in the cupboard inside. I was just coming out when I heard a slight whimper. I turned to one of the doors I had passed earlier. It had been shut then. Now it was wide open. I poked his head inside, and found Hermione clasping her hand over her mouth, staring at a shuffle of clothes on a queen sized bed. Another whimper escaped, and she doubled her efforts to keep the tears in. She caught my eye, and lowered her hands, clearing her throat. But she had barely finished before her bottom lip trembled and her eyes glazed with water. She turned away from me, her hand coming up to her mouth again as she let out one sob. The tears sprung from her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

I walked in, towel-clad mind you. Had it been any other girl, I wouldn't have done this. I wouldn't have walked up to her, my arms outstretched and taken her in immediately, holding onto her as she trembled and cried.

"Fred," she sniffed, but I shushed her. "Fred, you're going to get dirty again."

"Does it look like the time to be discussing my hygiene?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows. She tried to smile, before sniffing a little more, and sucking the tears in. I just held on, feeling her shake against me. "Merlin, do you need some firewhisky."

She stopped at that and looked up at me like I'd said something either really brilliant or really weird. Then she shook her head. "I need a shower," she said determinedly.

"Sure you're not going to drown yourself in the bathtub?" I asked her, feigning seriousness.

She chuckled slightly, and raised her hand, promising she wouldn't. Then she pointed to some clothes she laid out especially. I nodded and she moved to take her shower while I took the clothes and began to dress.

It took me about five minutes to get dressed and dry. And it took Hermione a good fifteen more minutes before she was done showering. She came in though after a good thirty minutes, in a new pair of jeans and a red shirt. I was sitting, my elbows on my knees as I thought hard about everything.

I knew that they had to be fine. They had to be okay. My family was okay. Mum and dad had been talking about the possibility of attacks, and I knew they had a special plan for that. Everyone was all right. Bill, Fleur, the Delacours, my parents, Charlie, George and Ginny. Harry and Ron were safe - they'd gotten out. Goodness knows where they ended up. And here was Hermione, and here I was...at her house, hiding as well, having narrowly escaped getting switched off.

Hermione came in holding two glasses filled half-way with a clear liquid. She sat next to me on the bed, and gave me one of the glasses.

"I felt like you'd need it," she said. "It's a muggle drink - vodka. It's a little strong..."

I mimed her a cheers, and then drained the thing in a whole before spurting half of it out. She chuckled slightly, taking a meek sip from her glass.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Yeah. Here," she said, tipping half of her drink into my glass. I followed her small sips, feeling the burn and the warmth. I relaxed a little.

"Fred," she said.

I looked up at her.

"They're okay," she said, but I had the feeling she was saying it more to herself than to me.

"They're okay," I repeated.

"You can stay in here," she said. "I'll go out this evening and buy us something to eat...but, er, you could just have a nap. You look...terrible. No, wait," she said, cringing as she covered her blunder. "You don't look terrible, Fred." Then she blushed. "I mean, you look okay. You look, er, alive."

"Alive," I mimicked.

"Alive," she said, nodding.

"Alive is good," I teased.

She sighed, then stood up.

"I'm going to go sleep in my room, all right? It's just across the hall. Barge in if you need me." She pointed her wand at the bed, and the clothes all floated, shuffling themselves back onto their hangers and into the closet.

I nodded, before she placed her glass on the dresser and left, going to her room.

I lay down on the bed I knew belonged to Hermione's parents, but no one had brought up that subject, now, yeah? I wondered where they were. Out? Working? Or had Hermione worked up some beforehand plan and hid them to keep them safe? I stared at the ceiling, wondering about something else. Something that had been pushing at my brain since we'd arrived here.

Why?

Why had I followed Granger? I mean, not like that. Ofcourse I wouldn't have left her to die. But why make such a decision, so quickly. There were a truckload of other guests who I could have run to help - my own family for one. And yet I was drawn to her the minute she was all alone. I snorted at myself. 'Drawn to her'?

George would have a good laugh at this now, and possibly chortle about Hogwarts about two years ago. Granger was prefect. We were imbeciles. But we were never imbeciles on purpose. Nor did we try to make such a show out of it to actually bring a prefect to whatever it was we were doing.

But Granger was different. Granger was...well. Granger was a prefect. And I knew George was rolling his eyes at me, or would later on scowl when something I'd intentionally do - subconsciously, no doubt - would bring her to us either screaming or pouting. Merlin, I loved it when she pouted. It was adorable, nonetheless. But George ofcourse said otherwise. He said the one reason I loved making Granger pout was that I always wondered what it'd be like to be the person to make her smile again.

A stupid crush. A stupid seventh year crush...on a fifth year. It wasn't even a real crush. If it were, I would have already had her hanging onto my hand as we walked down the corridors. Granger was something else. She had something about her that had me riveted. I guess I'd never noticed since she was always around Harry or Ron. But as a prefect, Harry couldn't always help, and Ron was no help at all...it was just her. And that made all the difference, bugger that.

I couldn't sleep really. It was too difficult. My blood was still pumping in my ears. My hands were giving the slightest tremble. But it happened eventually, maybe after an hour.

I was dreaming.

In the field again, running. Hermione was just ahead of me. But she smiling. Laughing. I was running after her, and she was calling out, "Catch me, Fred!"

And yet I couldn't. I was running and running after her, always too far behind. Eventually I just stopped, and screamed, "HERMIONE GRANGER! Don't do this to me, Hermione Granger!"

"If you promise to stop saying my full name," came her smart reply as she jumped me from behind. I turned the tables on her, turning around and staring her in the eyes. "You couldn't catch me, Fred," she said, pouting.

"I'll do better next time, Granger," I told her.

"What if you can't?" she asked me, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

I looked at her, confused. Then I saw someone standing behind, wand stuck out. They were wearing a cloak - like a death eater. Wearing a mask - like a death eater.

"Avada -"

"Fred!" Hermione cried.

"-Kedavra!"

I bolted upright, covered in my own cold sweat. It was dark outside already. I felt sick. I turned onto my stomach and heaved myself up, my limbs feeling heavier than before. I stumbled to my feet, and walked across the hall into Hermione's room. It was dark. Could barely see a thing.

But she was there, on her bed, sitting up and staring at her hands.

"Granger -" I croaked.

She flustered at the sound of my voice and wiped furiously at her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled, before saying in a shaky voice, "Fred...I didn't know -"

"If you keep it up at this rate, love, you'll have no tears left," I joked, sitting next to her. She gave me a bitter smile.

"That'd be lovely, Fred," she said quietly. She sighed and closed her eyes, lying back against her pillows. "This is terrible..." her breath quickened and she was speaking very quietly. "This is...I don't even know how to describe this. My mind is racing right now, mind you - and not in a good way. Of all the things to go wrong!"

She opened her eyes and gazed around sadly. Then she continued, "My parents were good people, Fred...and great parents. They loved me."

"Granger, love, parents tend to do that to their children," I said lightly.

She sighed again.

"I obliviated their memory," she said in a low voice.

That got me. I knew I was staring at her, shocked, while she was looking increasingly sick with herself.

"I...I obliviated their memory. Nothing left. Nothing concerning the past seventeen to eighteen years. Then I changed everything. I changed their names, changed their history and changed their future. They're the Wilkins now."

I looked carefully at her. She wasn't crying. She was just really, really sad now.

"The Wilkins don't have a daughter. They live in Australia."

"You could always undo the spell, Granger..."

She shook her head. "If I do it might just hurt them. I'm not sure how to undo what I've done. I'd rather not and just let it be."

She sank back into her earlier position, and I looked at her, still trying to get past the information.

"Blimey, Granger," I breathed out. "You..." he trailed off, unsure of how to complete the sentence.

"I am a bad person."

This I actually managed to snort at. Hermione looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"You are not a bad person, Hermione Granger. You did that to protect them. Heaven and Lord Voldy's grandmother all knew that you were going to fight in this war...you did them a favor."

"But I'm not fighting, Fred," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. "We," she said, and I knew she was speaking of Harry and Ron, "were suppose to disappear the minute we could. Dumbledore - er - left some tasks. And now I dunno where they are, and if they're safe. I'm back to the one place I never wanted to see again." Then she looked at me apologetically. "And I've dragged you into this."

"You haven't dragged me into anything, Granger," I told her. "Look," I said, seeing the words have no effect on her. "The situation and ideal. I'm just as worried as you are for a bundle of reasons as well. But we'll be okay. We'll figure this out eventually." Then I grinned. "Anyway, if I hadn't come after you and saved your arse, you'd be dead by now."

She rolled her eyes at me, but nodded, staring at the window. Tears were falling from her eyes again. I exhaled, and stood, ready to leave and give her some time alone. She rolled to her side, her back to me and I left, going back to her parents' room, sitting with one of the chairs propped near the window as I stared out at the world that knew nothing about the danger out there.

Hermione stayed like that for quite a few days. She'd be as all right as possible during the mornings and afternoons. The day after our arrival she woke me up as she rummaged underneath the dresser. She was lying with her back against the floor, meddling with something until a card fell down onto her neck. She straightened up just as I was rubbing my eyes, and gave me a slight smile.

Then she said something about going out to buy some food. Neither of us had had dinner the night before, not that it bothered me. But she seemed guilty and still a little out of the ordinary, so I just nodded as she left.

She was back within thirty minutes, carrying four brown paper bags. I helped her unpack them while she told me to help myself to some breakfast and she started making something or the other for lunch and dinner. Hermione said she barely knew how to cook, but the food tasted all right. She would talk nonstop, barely giving me a chance to speak, but it was all right. I remember on the first day thinking that she was back to normal, despite being a little frantic. She was talking, laughing sometimes when I made my jokes. But around evening time she'd return to her old sulky self. She'd stay sometimes infront of the fire, watching it intently, goodness knows what thoughts running through her head. And I'd be sitting in the kitchen doing the same.

I knew she cried frequently. Sometimes when I woke up before her, I'd check her room and find dry tear marks across her cheeks. Other times she'd be crying, not knowing that I'd seen her, or that I was watching her, finding it harder and harder to keep my distance and let her deal on her own.

I had to give it a while and know that she'd have a plan, because I was pulling at my own hair, standing on my toes in my own fear.

Merlin.

What have I done?