A/N: Hey there everyone! Sorry it took me so long to post this, I needed to figure out further where I really wanted the story to go. Hopefully updates will be coming faster now!
Ron ran over to join his weeping family immediately. I hung back with Harry. I knew that he hung back out of shock, and possibly respect for the family that was so close to, yet was not, his own. But I stayed because I couldn't know the truth. I couldn't know if he was laying in some unconscious, paralytic state, if he was hit by something that would take away everything he knew. I couldn't know what had hit him, what was causing him to lay there, unmoving, causing his family such heart ache. I couldn't know whether he was yet dead or not.
I tried not to analyze the situation too much. Everyone around him was clearly in agony, but no one was speaking. They were all just clinging to each other, holding on for dear life as this moment of panic washed over them. Molly wrapped her arms around Ron, pulling him in as if he was the last physical being that tied her to this life. I couldn't watch anymore. He couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible. Fred Weasley couldn't die.
Finally, after the agonizing moments of silence, finally, there was noise. But it was not his wonderful, infectious laugh. It was not his beautiful voice, nor the guttural sound he made from his throat whenever he woke up, or had been knocked off his broom particularly hard. It was the soul-crushing, please-kill-me-now-so-that-this-person-won't-be-in-agony cry of a voice so similar to his that if you didn't know what to listen for you would think that he had, indeed, just woken up in extreme pain. But it wasn't his voice, and George had just collapsed on top of the body, and that cry kept going, and it was that moment that made it real. Fred Weasley was dead.
I spun on the spot and ran out of the Great Hall, tears streaming down my face, my body convulsing with the intensity of the emotions. I had no idea where I was running, nor who would find me when I reached that place. All I knew was that I had to be out of that room, that awful room with all the dead, that awful room of mourners and healers for people who couldn't be healed. I heard, vaguely, someone yelling my name as I ran, but the voice was too familiar for me to stop. So I kept running, and the voice kept yelling, until I couldn't stand it anymore. Skidding to a stop, I spun around, wand drawn, but there was no one there. And yet the voice kept yelling, and I kept crying, and then I realized where I was. And suddenly the tears were coming harder, faster, and I was screaming for my subconscious to stop, but it wouldn't, and I was on the floor, curled in a paralyzing position of my own grief, and the memory invaded.
"Hermione! Hermione, please wait. HERMIONE!" I finally stopped once his yelling reached the point of frustrated shouting. Turning to face him, I noticed once again just how handsome he was. Ugh, that was the worst part of this. I was supposed to be falling for his brother, not him! I was supposed to be getting over him. And of course, who would be the one that walks in after I "pour my heart out" to Ron and he laughs in my face?
"Fred. I just want to be alone right now." He stayed where he was, about three paces in front of me. It was taking every fiber of my being not to close that distance. To stay put. Ron was supposed to take this pain away. Ron was supposed to fix everything. But he didn't. He only messed everything up even more.
"If I'm being honest, I don't really care what you want. You're dangerous enough with a wand in your hand when you aren't emotionally compromised, I fear the safety of the poor first year you come across who asks you a stupid question." He stood in that awful way that he always does, where he looks so laid back, like he truly doesn't have a care in the world. He was picking at the tip of his wand, but when he lifted his head he had that awful, "I know exactly what you're going through," self-confident look on his face that was so attractive but so infuriating at the same time.
"You fear the safety of the first years? Really. Well then, how about I just take all of this anger out on you, then, hm? Would that make you happy?" I didn't even give him time to respond, but he was expecting it; his laid-back posture immediately sharpened, perfectly countering and avoiding as I threw hexes his way. "You Weasley boys are all the same! All self-confident jerks who think that getting a girl is as easy as smashing a Bludger at Malfoy's head! And Ron, ugh, Ron is the worst. Because you know what? He's not even that good at Quidditch! He's not that good at school, he isn't as clever as you or George, but I never say that, because he is my friend, and I wouldn't say that to a friend, but ugh! All of you need to learn that girls have feelings, and that we're not these delicate flowers who live for a boy's approval! But that it does take a lot of courage to tell a boy how we feel. It takes a bloody lot of courage to do that, and you all throw it away like there are girls throwing themselves at you every five minutes. Well, that might be true for you, but it's not for him, and he needs to get over himself!" At this last exclamation, I paused, and Fred relaxed, exactly as I'd hoped he would. His second of trust in my being finished was exactly what I needed. "Petrificus totalus!" His eyes showed his split second of shock before the spell connected, knocking him backwards. "And that will teach you to come after me when I tell you I want to be left alone." I crouched down right next to him, putting my lips right next to his ear. "And if you tell anyone what you witnessed in the common room, I have much worse hexes up my sleeve." I stood, brushing off my knees and began to walk off, but then turned around just before the corner. "Oh, by the way, hope you're comfortable. My body binds normally take about 20 minutes to wear off." And with that, I sauntered off, smiling to myself. In a way, Fred coming after me was exactly what I'd needed. But there was so much more that I should have said. Because in no way, shape, or form, was Ron the worst Weasley boy.