A/N: I have decided to continue with this story as I'm about to have a quarter life crisis and need to try and flex my creativity again. Welcome back readers! Let's see if I still remember how to do this.
A warm and calloused hand held hers, thumb stroking back and forth slowly over her knuckles. Long fingers tracing circles in the palm of her hand.
"It'll be ok you know, you'll get through it. You always do. You're Hermione Granger, after all."
Hermione gave the redhead a watery smile. "That's very kind of you, Fred." She straightened up a bit and took a deep breath. "Everything will be fine."
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his hand lifted to her cheek. Light was streaming into the burrow as though every window was open.
"You know I'm here if you need anything, George and I both, all of us Weasley's; but especially me." Fred's hazel eyes were soft but earnest. She couldn't look away, the air crackled and they began to move closer, as if pulled by a magnetic force. The breath was being pulled from her body.
"I know you are Fred, you always are." No sooner had the words left Hermione's lips than the light began to dim, swallowing the room inch by inch with a blackness that consumed everything it touched until it was only them left standing just apart from each other.
"I don't know why I had to leave, but I'll be back you know."
His voice sound disembowelled, like it came from everywhere but the man that stood in front of her.
"Fred?" Her heart grew cold with realisation. "Fred please no."
Fred smiled at her and suddenly, they were back at that place, and there he was, half buried under rock and rubble, a dribble of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "You know; you really are an exceptional witch Hermione." He flashed her that roguish smile of his, the one that she missed so much, and the light went out of his eyes.
"Fred no!"
There was an almighty crack as the walls of Hogwarts began to crumble around them and Hermione screamed.
Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide, breathing heavily and slick with sweat. Shaking, she pushed her hair back from her face. Her nightmares usually took her back to Malfoy manor and Bellatrix, not to Fred. It had felt so real. Memory intertwined with nightmare.
The brunette witch took a deep breath to steady herself and frowned, the crack that woke her up was very real, out in the hall, she could hear a tinkle, like someone stepping on glass. She was not alone.
Adrenaline coursed through Hermione's body and she grabbed her wand from beneath her pillow, slipping from bed and padding from her room.
There was someone in her kitchen, muttering to themselves. She could see their shadow looming and moving, against the light that spilled from the tiny room.
"Come out right now, whoever you are, hands raised." Hermione's voice was even and deadly. She gripped her wand tightly and breathed through her nose. A stupefy at the ready, should they try anything stupid.
The shadow moved slightly as the person shifted in the other room, but didn't come out "Hermione?"
The witch blinked, her wand arm lowering a little. "Fre- George, this isn't funny what are you doing?" cautiously she moved closer.
"I'm not Gred, honestly Hermione, I would have thought you'd know better." The older Weasley twin emerged from Hermione's kitchen. "Although I have to say, this is a pretty neat trick he's pulled on me this time. I look ridiculous-"
"Stupefy!"
Hermione panicked a little, which, she would have regretted, had she not been, well, panicking. But it was for naught as the spell just bounced off.
Fred leapt backwards, away from her, holding up his hands. "Woah Hermione, what'd you do that for!"
The witch just stared at him, looking rather like a fish. "Fred?"
The read head rolled his eyes, "Of course it's Fred I'm not missing an ear am I?"
"Oh Fred." Hermione's eyes began to prickle and tears coursed from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks. She suddenly dropped her wand and rushed towards him, nearly bowling him over with the force of her hug.
Breathlessly, the older Weasley twin managed to catch her and straightened, awkwardly patting her on the back. "Hey, it's alright! It's alright!" he smiled down at the bushy brown haired witch. "Not sure what George's done here, but I don't look that bad do I?"
Hermione looked up at him uncomprehendingly, her face tear streaked. It was Fred, but it wasn't him at the same time, he smelled strange, like fresh parchment. Confused, and half convinced she was still in a dream, Hermione reached up and gently touched his cheek, moving up to tangle her fingers in the dip of his fringe. It felt strange. Frowning a little, her fingers traced the line of his jaw.
"Uhhhh, Hermione, you alright there?" Fred asked, mightily confused. Obviously not quite sure about all her touching.
Hermione's brow furrowed "You can't be real." Her voice was a breath. "But if you're not real what are you a- oh." Quickly, she let go of the redhead and rushed down the hall into her living room and saw the empty frame. "Oh sweet Circe."
"Would you mind telling me what's going on here?" Fred's voice appeared from above her shoulder, but Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the blank canvas, for gold lettering was starting to shine through the grey blue painted canvas. "What the hell is that for Merlin's sake!"
Tentatively, Hermione stepped through the doorway and moved closer to the painting, peering at the light that shone from it.
"When the clock strikes midnight, the canvas will awake and all will be as it should have been." She whispered with a frown as the lettering continued to sprawl over the canvas.
"When conscience and soul intertwine, prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish; and then, the gift of life is thine…" It was Fred who spoke those last words, and as the letters began to disappear, he grabbed the witch's shoulders and whirled her to face him. "Hermione you need to tell me what's happening right now. Since when have you lived in a flat? Death Eaters are looking for muggleborns, why aren't you at the burrow? How did I end up here? Is this one of George's new pranks because if it is I'm going to- why are you still crying?"
Hermione couldn't help it. It was all too much. The tiny brushstrokes of his face moved perfectly as he spoke. He was the same man she had begun to fall for, and yet he wasn't, she'd been trying to let him go for months, and then here he was. She didn't know what to say or do. There was nothing for it. The bushy haired witch took a deep breath.
"Fred. You're dead."