Chapter 2

Fred felt his whole body turn numb. He watched as Madam Pomfrey performed a few more tests on Hermione, and as Hermione tried to desperately comply and blink her eyes. It seemed like forever before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw George mouthing, "we have to go." As if right on cue, a loud shrill voice rang in the room.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!"

Fred was rooted to the spot, his brain not functioning properly. All he could think of was Hermione. He turned Hermione blind. He turned her blind. It was his fault. He turned her blind.

George, seeing that his brother was not going to be thinking rationally anytime soon, pulled his brother away from Hermione's bedside and led him quickly past the crowd of students. Looking back, he saw Ron, Ginny, and Harry pushing through the crowd to get to Hermione. He was pushing through the last row of students when something pink and frilly a few steps in front of him caught his eyesight – it was Umbridge.

Arms crossed in front of her chest, Dolores Umbridge's foot tapped slowly. Clad in her frilly pink dress suit with matching shoes and hat, she stood out profusely. The grin she wore on her face was enough to make George and Fred's signature grin look like a sissy smile.

"Well, well. I do believe some very naughty students deserve a punishment. What do you think?" she said.

Just peachy, George growled in his head. Looking right and left, he scanned the room. They were trapped. Umbridge and her Slytherin lackeys were surrounding them. Even if they did some wand work, they were out-numbered. Their brooms were nowhere in sight, and a few more Slytherins were guarding the Great Hall doors. Besides, Fred wasn't exactly functioning properly right now, and two students were no match for Dolores Umbridge.

Suddenly, a spark of red flew right past him and hit Umbridge square on the chest. She flew back, hit the wall, and slumped unconscious. George's head whipped back to see where it came from, and almost collided with Fred, whose head whipped back as well.

"Ms. Granger!" the voice of Madam Pomfrey shrieked, as McGonagall appeared out of nowhere, putting up a protective shield in front of the crowd of students, separating the crowd from Hermione, Fred, George, and the Slytherins who were quickly rounding on the twins.

Hermione, limping, blood-stained, bed-raggled-haired, and pale looking Hermione, whose eyes were somewhat a lighter brown than usual, was standing by her bed. The students had made a path for her, where her stupefy spell must have passed through. Her wand was still out, and she shouted, "Fred! George! Go!"

George yanked Fred's hand with one hand and whipped out his wand with another. "Stupefy!"George shouted numerous times, hitting the Slytherins around them. Fred snapped from his daze and helped his brother.

"Accio broom!" They both called at the same time, as their brooms zoomed from the shrieking crowd and to them.

They caught their brooms from the air and mounted them. George kicked off and was in the air by no time. He was soon joined by Fred.

"George! We can't leave Hermione!" Fred shouted, as he dodged a few spells aimed at him by Umbridge's remaining lackeys.

George swore under his breath - Fred was right. Once Umbridge wakes up, Hermione will be in deep trouble for attacking the Head Mistress. He doubted they would give her an award for achieving that when she was blind. George swooped down towards Hermione, dodging screaming students and spells. Fred, who was above him, was trying to clear the way for his brother.

George swooped down to where Hermione was, and saw Harry, Ron, and Ginny rushing Hermione towards him.

"George! George! Take her! Take her with you!" Ginny shouted, holding Hermione's hand out.

Harry and Ron looked more reluctant, but they nodded. They knew Hermione wasn't safe in Hogwarts, and would just suffer Umbridge's wrath. Who knows what Umbridge and her sick definition of 'discipline' would do to her.

George laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "Hermione, do you-"

Hermione nodded. She knew she couldn't stay here – not after what she had done to Umbridge.

George guided her to mount his broom. He sat behind her, holding her secure in front of him. "Alright, 'Mione, hold on tight," George said. "Harry, I think you better use this distraction to your advantage. Go head on to Umbridge's office – she's not getting up anytime soon," George smirked.

Harry nodded, and rushed out the doors quickly with Ron, nobody noticing them in the current pandemonium.

Hermione, not liking the fact that she was flying, was even more terrified because she couldn't see anything. All she could do was strain her ears for the sounds going around her. She felt the broom rise and they were wizzing in the air in no time. After a few stomach lurching twists and turns, Hermione could feel the air change – it was colder, and it smelled like pine.

They were free.

Fred couldn't enjoy the broom ride. Even though the wind felt great and the moon was amazingly beautiful, he couldn't help but glance every second at Hermione, who sat quietly in front of George on George's broom. He flew slower so that he could fly beside George and see Hermione clearer. Although her wounds were healed, there was still blood on her dress and her hair was a mess. She looked deathly pale, and her hands were gripping the broom handle so hard that her knuckles were now white.

George and Fred traded a look, before George spoke up. "'Mione? Are you alright?"

Hermione didn't feel alright. Not really. She couldn't see anything, how could she be alright? She only realized how much she relied on her eyes. She was a very visual person – she liked to observe everything down to the last detail and commit it to her mind. Now, she couldn't do that anymore. She had to learn to rely on her ears now. As much as she wanted to be angry with Fred and George, they didn't mean it. It was an accident, as simple as that. It was her fault she walked off the safe spot like that. She had wanted to see Umbridge's reaction, and look where it got her.

Madam Pomfrey had said she couldn't fix her eyesight. If there was one thing Magic couldn't fix, it was anythign to do with eyes and eyesight. If magic could fix eyesight, nobody had to wear spectacles anymore, and even McGonagall and Dumbledore wore spectacles. The mediwitch had said that unless Hermione had a muggle doctor examine her, she wouldn't be getting her eyesight back. However, going to a muggle doctor would expose magic to the muggles – after all, it was something magical that caused her to be this way. It was the magical blinding flash of Fred and George's product that made her blind. Heading to a muggle doctor was a no-go as well, so now she was really stuck being blind. She was blind.

Once it was confirmed and her brain had processed she was blind, tears started streaming down her cheeks again. She was blind. Never to see anything, ever. She was condemned to a life of darkness.

George felt Hermione's body trembling. Fred shot him a look.

"'Mione, I'm sorry. I- I was the one who made this batch of fireworks. It was my mistake," Fred said.

George couldn't remember when he last saw his brother looking like he did now. He looked so defeated. His eyes lost the mirth it usually had.

Hermione shook her head. "It's alright. If I didn't step away from the tables it wouldn't have happened," Hermione croaked, her throat feeling dry and sore.

Fred didn't answer; he was feeling guilty. It really was his fault. They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Fred heard George's steps thundering down the stairs. Ever since last night, when they brought Hermione to their new shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley, and settled her down in their flat upstairs, George had been the one who stayed with her. Fred couldn't do it – he couldn't look at her without bursting into tears. He felt guilty like hell, and he beat himself up for it. Fred had been taking care of the shop, which opened this morning, and was handling the cashier, when George walked past some kids examining the Skiving Snackboxes and headed to Fred.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Fred. She won't eat anything! She won't even say much, just one word answers, and that's really unlike her. She usually babbles on and on about stuff. I even prodded her about considering getting a house elf to run our shop, and not pay him anything. She just shook her head, Fred!" George sighed.

"What do we do? Should we call Mum? Maybe she can help?" Fred asked. George and he hadn't told their mum yet that they had left Hogwarts and were in the shop, and they knew giving her the news of Hermione's predicament was going to permanently kill both of the twins.

George shook his head. "Not now. She would freak if she saw the state Hermione is in. Maybe you should try to talk to 'Mione. Get her to open up and everything. When she starts getting and looking better, we could call Mum," George said, sliding inside the cashier area.

Fred warily took off his work vest and handed it to George, who in turn donned it. Heading to the stairs that led to their flat, Fred tried to brace himself. He did not want to cry again in the presence of Hermione, even if she couldn't see him doing so. Even if he was thoroughly guilty about what happened, nothing would happen if he just sat and moped and avoided Hermione. The best that he could do was help.

Entering the small flat, Fred headed to one of the doors on the right and knocked. He turned the door knob and stooped short, his breath caught in his throat. His amber eyes were glued to the bed, where Hermione Granger sat, leaning on the headboard.

Hermione turned to the sound of the door opening. From the sound of the footsteps, it wasn't George. If it wasn't George, then it had to be Fred.

"You're not George," she pointed out softly.

Fred, snapping out of his reverie, stepped inside the somewhat dim room and closed the door behind him.

"It's Fred," he said as he took in the room. The room was supposedly his, and therefore was painted a warm blue; it was his favorite color. Their flat only had two rooms, as it was for both he and George, but they had decided last night that Hermione would be staying in Fred's room, which was nearer to the staircase that led to the shop. The room was now somewhat eerie looking, what with all the curtains drawn shut, successfully keeping the morning light out.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked gingerly over to Hermione and sat by the edge of the bed. He was about to open his mouth to tell a joke about the dreariness of the room when her voice cut him off.

"If you're going to ask how I am, I'd rather you not. George has already been berating me all day," Hermione said stiffly. She was grateful for the twins' concern, but she actually rather she be left alone. She needed time to mourn; to internalize and to come to terms with her new world of pitch black darkness and constant dizzying brightness – it was the only two things she could see right now.

Fred bit his tongue back. He glanced at Hermione, who was staring straight into the door, unmoving. Her hair was still a mess, her eyes had dark circles under them, and she still had her bloodied and somewhat chagrined dress from the previous night on her. Fred and George had argued the night before about who would help her change, and when it was decided that it would be done by George, they had entered the room only to see that she had fallen asleep.

Fred scooted nearer to Hermione and took one of her hands in his. Her hand was cold against his warm ones, and he felt her jump a bit when their skin made contact.

Hermione couldn't help but revel in the new warmth. Ever since she had lost her eyesight and was condemned to darkness, she felt cold almost all the time. George had noticed this, and had attempted to open the windows just awhile ago as he brought her lunch, which now sat by the table beside the bed untouched, very much like the breakfast he had attempted to make her eat.

She had immediately cringed at the light that the windows brought in. It was like having a flashlight directly aimed at your closed eyes. She had then asked George to close the windows and draw the curtains over it. She very much preferred the cold darkness compared to the light. She didn't know why, but she just felt like doing nothing – like sitting there, in the cold, and do nothing. Maybe it was a pity party for herself; after all, she couldn't do much anymore. She couldn't even make her way around the place, or get dressed, or read books, or continue her schooling. What was the point, then, really?

Fred had an idea as to why she was acting like this. If he were her, and was blind, he would be acting just as she was. He would be drowning himself over his loss, over the fact that he couldn't do anything anymore by himself. Plus, he knew how much Hermione loved reading, and now she couldn't even have that. He himself had taken it away from her.

Fighting back the stinging in his eyes as he promised himself to make it up to her by helping her, he lifted Hermione's petite and delicate hands to his cheek and held it there.

Hermione, feeling something somewhat soft and warm, explored further down his cheek to his jawline. When she got to his chin, she let out a giggle. The sound felt unknown to her, as if she hadn't done it in a millenia.

Fred smiled softly as her fingers grazed his early morning stubble.

"Ah, I have been discovered," he said jokingly. "Mind you, I usually do shave."

Hermione felt her lips pull into a small smile. "Then why didn't you today?" she asked in a small voice as her fingers continued to explore Fred's face, now moving up to lightly graze over his lips.

Smiling sadly, Fred took her wandering fingers and pulled them down a bit so that he could kiss her knuckles, very much like he did the previous day. "I had other pressing matters to attend to lately, milady," he said, bringing up yesterday's role play.

"More important than hygiene?" she asked teasingly.

Fred let out a snort before he could stop himself, and proceeded to utter the next sentence without thinking.

"You're talking to me about hygiene?"

He had meant it as a joke, but he realized his mistake immediately, even before Hermione withdrew her hand from him. Before he could apologize, he saw tears rolling off Hermione's eyes.

"I wouldn't know. I can't see," she said softly, emphasizing on the latter bitterly.

Fred cursed himself before taking her hands in his once again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I wasn't thinking. Look, do you want a bath? I..I could help you..." Fred trailed off, blushing profusely. "And I promise not to look. Really. Not that you've got anything I wouldn't want to look at, mind you, but I'll keep my distance. I won't look, I swear," he added quickly.

Hermione, feeling the darkness engulf her again, closed her eyes.

"No thanks," she replied sadly.

She didn't want help. She didn't want pity. She didn't want anything – she wanted to be left alone to her misery.

Fred, sighing and knowing exactly what was going through in her mind, stood up.

Feeling his weight leave the bed, Hermione was about to sink back into the covers to lie down, thinking she would finally be let alone, when suddenly two strong arms were under her, lifting her up.

"Fred!" She shrieked. "Put me down!"

"No," he replied curtly, keeping his hold on her firm.

Hermione thrashed about as Fred carried her to the bathroom.

"Just leave me alone!" She shouted, pushing what she assumed was Fred's chest.

Finally, she was put down, only to find cold tiles pressing against her bare feet.

"Hermione, look. I'm sorry for what happened. Really. You have no idea how much the guilt is eating me up. But it's done now, and we can't go back and fix it. Nothing will happen if we sit and mope. This is unlike you; you've always been ready to take a challenge – so go take this one like the Gryffindor that you really are," Fred scolded, leaning on the bathroom sink.

He expected her to argue with him, to say it was his fault, curse him, hex him, whatever. He was unprepared for what she said.

"I'm scared, alright?" Hermione sobbed, balling her hands up into fists and shaking. She felt new tears rolling down her cheeks and bit her lip. She closed her eyes, but there was no difference; it was dark when they were open, and just as dark when they were closed.

Fred stared at shock by what she said, his mind gears whirling. Yes, of course, she would be scared. All she could see was darkness. She felt alone. And when you feel alone, it was natural to just sit and do nothing; to not want to take any risks and just stay inside the box, knowing you'll be safe in it.

Fred stepped towards her and took her cold hands in his.

"Hermione, you're not alone; I'm here. I'll help you. We'll get through this together," Fred said in a soothing voice. "But you have to let me help you. We'll work together, so you can get used to how things will be now. Don't give up, Hermione. I'll help you, I won't leave you, just don't give up," he added softly.

He dropped her hands to wrap his arms around her as she sobbed harder. He felt her nod against his chest and held her tighter to him. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, but Fred just held her. When the sobs lessned into softening hiccups, Fred drew back and caressed her cheeks with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears as her eyes remained closed.

"So. Will you let me help you?" Fred asked.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Hermione Granger never says no to a challenge," she said softly.

"Ah, there's my girl!" Fred grinned proudly.

Raising a brow, Hermione smirked a bit. Fred grinned wider at the improvement of her actions and thoughts.

"Your girl?" she teased.

Slightly reddening, he decided to erase his slip of the tongue by covering it as a joke.

"Of course! Bath time together really does bind people together, you know, what with both parties being completely starkers. It's the ideal bonding! Have you heard that once you've seen someone naked, you're practically married?" he joked, earning him a playful slap on the arm.

"Hey! That's abuse, woman! Even if you are -"

Fred stopped himself in time. He wasn't sure if using the term would be alright. After all...

"Blind?" Hermione supplied. She smiled softly before adding, "If you're going to conquer something, you first have to accept it," she added, sniffing.

Fred grinned, glad to have the old Hermione back. He started pulling out the numerous pins in her hair.

"Merlin, how did you sleep with all of these?" he asked incredulously as he fought a losing battle with her hair.

Hermione gave a soft giggle. "It was quite painful," she said.

"Well, this is going to take a long time, so don't wait up; I guess the bathroom floor would be quite comfy if you decide you want a nap," Fred joked, trying to wrestle a pin out of her hair.

Hermione stifled a laugh as she felt Fred's hands jerking here and there.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"...I need to use the loo."

A/N: I really am enjoying writing this! Tell me what you think, drop a review!