Pairing: Fred/Hermione

1. Something I Need - OneRepublic

He jerked awake, the blankets falling away from his sweat-soaked form. It wasn't the first time, either, but he looked around manically nonetheless. Still in the crisp white hospital room. Still not alone; she was sitting in the chair she'd occupied every time he'd awoken to see her there.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he settled back down onto his pillow, pressing his unmarked cheek against the soft fabric. He wondered absently how bad it was, because the one time he'd woken to find her awake, she hadn't looked at him. He couldn't possibly not be scarred, not after half of Hogwarts had crashed down on top of him. His still-broken arm could attest to that.

He was watching her closely, praying, hoping, that she might wake and be caught off guard. He wanted to see her eyes. He needed to know for certain that everyone was alright. He thought he'd been told already, but the morphine had addled his mind. "Hermi..." He grimaced. "Mione."

She stiffened in her sleep, and her eyes fluttered open as her body relaxed too slowly to be called natural. "You're awake."

He didn't see how she'd managed to become so wide awake, so fast. "Guess so. How is everyone?"

"Alright." She paused. "Not alright. Your mum's losing her mind with worry. Ron's angry at me for not kissing him, as far as I can tell. Percy's been more annoying than everyone remembers. Charlie showed up. And -"

"Harry?"

"Harry's fine. You wouldn't be in St. Mungo's if he wasn't. We'd probably be dead or worse."

That wasn't ominous at all. "Why are you here?"

"Because you are," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And if anything happens to you, I want to know first. So they can't...so you don't have to wait long."

He sighed, sitting up. The bed protested quietly, better suited to not moving, and he patted the mattress beside him. "Hermione, it would be my privilege to live with you at my side."

"Yes," she said, perching beside him. "It would."

2. Last Night on Earth - Delta Goodrem.

Hermione was stiff all over, her body aching. That's what you get for being on the run so long, she thought to herself. It wouldn't matter for long. Tomorrow - midnight - was the final battle, the wrap-up. Do or die. If they lost this, they lost the war.

She grimaced at the sky, staring at her from the window. She was trying not to think of him, but it was so hard. The radio at her side was silent for the first time in a long while; there was no need for a report now. Everyone knew that it was time to show their colours. Glumly, she drew a wobbly smile on the glass where her breath fogged the window. What if I never see him again? What if one of us dies?

It didn't cheer her up.

She had pictures, of course, of him and of her, together, smiling, laughing, and even, because of Colin's timing, of her yelling at him. Fred's smile never once wavered, not in any of the photos, not while he tried half-heartedly to talk her down or to turn her back on him and not watch. Just once she wished divination could be a genuine profession, so she might be able to see how this would all end.

"I think I'm in love with you," she murmured into the silence. A second later, she felt the ghost of fingers on her neck, until a solid grip was taken to her shoulder.

"Are you really?"

She turned bright red. "Fred, what're you -?"

"Everyone's distracted. Come for a walk with me? I don't think any of us should be alone right now."

She leaned her head back to look up at his kind blue eyes, rather like his fathers - the dark ring around the outside of his pupil was one of the few things he and George didn't share. It's not enough. It's never enough.

As he took her hand, though, she sighed anyway. It would do, for the moment.

3. Holding On - Simple Plan

The lit brazier flickered from where it had been lodged between two bricks, trying to keep it from falling. Staring at it, arms around his knees, Fred couldn't quite remember what had possessed him to rip it from the wall at Hogwarts, or how he'd done so at all - he'd always been better at hitting than pulling. Beaters' strength, Wood had called it.

The cobbled streets were dark and dim, clouds blocking out the light of the moon he thought must be full, judging by the familiar roar of werewolves in the distance. North London would be getting torn apart by the monsters tonight, anyone who broached the curfew triggering it. On the edge of a step, he was mere centimetres from setting off every alarm in the street. "Don't move," he muttered to himself, unfolding the letter in his hand. She shouldn't be far away now. Then again, he'd said so every day for the past few weeks, and it was getting harder and harder to convince himself.

But memories danced through his mind at night, and the familiar handwriting of the note gave him hope. He had to find her, and he knew he'd be the one. She was just a little out of reach, and she had to be - Death Eaters would pay a handsome sum for 'Potter's mudblood', currying the Dark Lord's favour.

A light flickered in the distance, the open flame of someone he couldn't see. He imagined for a moment that it was Hermione, waiting for him where he couldn't quite see, as enigmatic as ever. "I'm coming, love," he murmured to the night. He meant it, too. How could he not?

4. I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson

Hermione found him completely wasted in the Leaky Cauldron, and of course she sighed in disappointment. She'd thought he might actually stay clean this time, but of course he had to be difficult. He was having a lot of trouble dealing with the post-war world. "Put the bottle down. I do wish you'd go back to work."

"No way," he slurred. It took a good twenty minutes to get him back to his store, but it was worth it. She dumped his now-sleeping form on his bed and dusted off her hands.

"Stay," he groaned, reaching for the hem of her skirt. She jumped out of reach quickly. Not asleep, then.

"Goodnight, Fred."

"Stay."

"No. I won't stay with you while you're drunk."

"Please, Her...Hem," he hiccoughed, "Mione. I'll be good."

She grimaced at him. "Absolutely not, Fred Weasley, you get some sleep."

"I don't wanna be alone."

"You won't remember that in the morning."

"Please?"

As if that's going to - oh. He was looking at her now, and she was instantly disgusted with herself. She hadn't noticed that he was crying. "Oh, Fred, stop that."

"Won't you stay?"

"I - I suppose I can stay for a while."

He moved instantly, making room for her. She sat beside him, but he pulled her down quickly. She grimaced as he nuzzled her neck, his breath reeking horridly; her whole body thrummed with the knowledge that she hadn't been this close to anyone since before her and Ron had broken up. She jerked away from him, cutting off his nuzzling. "I'm not one of your floozy's, Fred. I won't do that for you."

"We'll go slow then," he whispered, his voice husky. She was saved from having to answer when he fell asleep. Not likely until you quit drinking.

5. Beautiful - Eminem

They all had their scars, and the war hadn't really even started in earnest. Not that it needed to. No, Fred Weasley knew that the usurping of the Ministry basically meant they had lost. It was a miracle that they'd been able to escape the wedding in the first place. But Hermione and the others had gotten away, thanks to her perfectionist planning - the same planning he'd teased her for over the past few years. He was regretting that, flexing his hand now as he glanced out form Shell Cottage's window. He missed her terribly. He wondered if she missed him, too.

Worse than that, they couldn't reopen the shop. He felt like he'd been stripped of his livelihood, then of his mind. It was taking a great deal of energy for him to drag himself out to face the world, now that there was no fun to be had. It made the entire thing seem dim and dull.

George kept shooting him curious glances, mostly concerned ones. Fred refused to meet his eye; he'd known about him and Hermione, of course he had. They wouldn't keep that a secret, especially not from his twin. Everyone knew about them now.

He could feel her lips on his in the silence, kisses stolen in the library before he and George had left Hogwarts the year before last. Fred didn't cry, no, but he wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. He hoped she wasn't in too much danger, that she was at least a little safe. He hoped she wasn't forgetting again, about her beauty, her own enchantment. She'd been devastated when Ron had chosen Lavender, and Fred had held his tongue. She was over him, he knew that, the crush on his brother petered out in her third year, and his fifth. That was about when Fred had started to really notice her, actually.

But sixth year had done something to Hermione's mind. She'd become more self-conscious, caring more about her appearance than she ever had before. He still didn't know what Ron had said.

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. He wondered if she'd ever write again - then he shook his head, feeling her lips ghosting across his cheek, his throat, his arm, the scar on his left hand from Umbridge's perpetual abuse. Beautiful. Then he imagined returning the favour, running his lips over scars from injuries sustained in the muggle world - that one on her right arm, from a broken bone. On her forehead, where she'd hit a table after a fall. The thin lines on her own left hand.

"Come back to me, Hermione," he murmured, mostly for something to say to the memory. He knew she'd be safe in the end, because her death would mean Harry Potter's defeat. If only he could guarantee his own life.

6. Where Did the Party Go? - Fall Out Boy

Fred Weasley, locally famous comedian. One part of a double act. Comedic genius. And, of course, a smoker.

He tapped a smoke out off the packet, smiling at some broad whose shirt was open so wide, the cleavage was more visible than the fabric. Katie, he remembered. Him and George had tag-teamed her a while back, and clearly she expected a repeat performance. "Not likely," he muttered, looking down at the cigarette packet. One of those before-and-after shots showed a smiling woman with warm brown eyes and bushy dark hair, and the same woman in a half-dead state, a tube in her throat. He grimaced in distaste, pocketing the packet before he exited the dodgy pub, knocking himself and someone else to the pavement.

"What the -"

"Oh, honestly," said a distinctly feminine voice. He looked up to find her already upright, offering him her hand. He took it - screw tradition - and she helped him to his feet, leaving him bright red and face-to-face with the eyes from the cigarette packet.

"Watch where you're going in the future."

"Don't you know who I am?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"Let me buy you a drink to make up for it."

"Oh, fine, if you'll leave me alone."

That was years ago. The girl with the eyes from the cigarette packet was long gone, lost to the passage of time. Fred, obstinate Fred, had forgotten to ask her name and phone number, and she'd disappeared the next morning.

He turned the cigarette packet in his hand, everything inside unsmoked, frowning. He'd missed his chance, and now she was gone. Completely and utterly gone.

"You're that comic fellow, aren't you?"

"That's my brother, not me," he lied smoothly, not in the mood to talk.

"No, I'm sure it's you. No one else has the same...build."

Oh, it's one of them, he realised, looking up with the intention of telling the woman to go away. He never said what he intended, instead gaping at her in surprise. "How -?"

"Oh, you honestly thought I didn't recognise you at the time? Not everyone's as memorabale as you, Fred Weasley."

7. Wild Heart - Daughtry

Hermione knew exactly what she wanted. She always had. She wanted to get the best grades, she wanted the teachers to like her, and when she was done, she wanted the best job, the one that would change the world.

Five years after Hogwarts, she had it. She had the friends and the reputation, and the bill to change house-elf rights forever was just about cleared. She had the relationship she'd wanted growing up, the pureblood Weasley on her arm.

He's not the right one.

"Excuse me," she murmured, pulling herself free of Ron's grip.

"She used to have so much passion," someone by the door was saying. She didn't look at her as she passed; she already knew it would be some clueless Ministry worker who knew nothing about her.

She ventured outside, where she knew no one would go. It was too cold, too lonely. Perfect for what she needed, not that Ron was bad company per se. It was just that he wasn't perfect. "I wanted you, not Ron," she whispered to the night. "Ever since the Yule Ball."

Harry and Ron had left early, leaving Hermione to weep alone on the staircase after Ron's accusations. It hadn't been Viktor, no - it had been one of the Weasley twins. Fred, to be precise. "Ron's an idiot," he had said simply, and pulled her to her feet. "Come dance with me?"

That was the start of their sort-of dating, the start of her helping with the idea of a joke shop. They could pull it off, she knew. "Wild heart," he'd called her, teasing. She smiled at the memory, feeling the tears on her cheeks and praising herself for not losing it.

But the memories of a summers spent barefoot at the Burrow bit into her further, and she smiled sadly. She'd described highways and airplanes and then he'd chucked her in the pond because she'd said it was too hot. The next summer, the one with the wedding, he'd held her at every chance, and she'd held him. "Don't let go 'til we die," he'd said. Neither of them took it as a joke, but she'd laughed anyway, and soon enough they were both cackling together.

"Never lose your wild heart," he had told her.

She should have told him never to die.

8. Am I Not Pretty Enough? - Kasey Chambers

Sixth year and Hogwarts was tearing her apart. Or rather, Ron was. Ron and Lavender. Ron ignoring Hermione. Again.

She had wondered away from Harry in the rain, ended up outside Zonko's joke shop. Refusing to bother with the childish pranks within - even if they were magic - she shoved past someone she didn't bother to look at and headed for the Shrieking Shack, silent in Lupin's absence.

By the time he caught up to her properly - Merlin, can she go fast - she was crying, clutching her sides and hunching over as though she was dying. "Aren't I pretty enough for him? Is it because I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor that one time? I'm trying as hard as I can. Why won't he see me?"

Fred sighed and sat beside her, pulling her into a decent hug, something she hadn't had enough of, at least in his opinion. He'd just been there scoping out Zonko's - expanding Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was in the cards, as it turned out - and she'd almost bowled him over. And he knew exactly what disgusting thing had upset her. He'd have to be blind to miss that disgusting display.

"He's an idiot," he whispered, pressing her face against his chest. "He can't see what's right in front of him."

"H-Harry says this is what seeing Ginny with Dean feels like."

"He probably knows it, too." He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut, almost sighing. Funny how they seem so different, but they have so much they have in common.

Funny how they both break hearts.

9. Alive - Adelitas Way

Fred leaned closer to Hermione, if that were possible. She was already laying with her head on his lap, letting him play with her unruly curls. Her eyes were dancing as she tried to pretend she wasn't laughing at Ron, playing with her godson, James. Harry's son was adorable.

Fred smiled at Hermione, though, not the baby. She was the one who'd taught him what it was to feel love, to care, and to never want to let go. Granted, she'd done so by leaving him half-certain she was dead, but that wasn't her choice, not really. The Horcrux hunt had demanded it, at least at the time.

He still felt more alive with her than he did with anyone else, including George. He could feel the little box and its' contents, almost like they wanted to jump out and ask her themselves. Patience. He moved his hand to fetch them from the pocket, but not before kissing her forehead tenderly. "I love you, you know that?"

She grinned up at him, turning her head to meet his gaze. "More than anything."

10. Sick Hearts - The Used

He didn't expect this reaction. He certainly hadn't thought it possible. But here he was, glaring at Viktor bloody Krum, fury tempting him to walk right up to him and shove him headfirst into the punch bowl - and he wasn't even the one who'd hurt her. He was just the one who hadn't seen.

Yes, Fred Weasley was watching Hermione's night fall into ruin, planning the doom of just about everyone who wronged her. It wasn't that he loved her - at least, he shut his eyes and told himself that - or was in love with her, which of course are totally different things. It was just that she was his friend, and she didn't deserve this suffering.

When he said this to George, his twin rolled his eyes. "Wrong."

"Am not!"

"You're such a mess, Forge. Go talk to her."

"Sorry?"

His twin shoved him. "You heard me. Go talk to Hermione. Fix her night!"

"I don't think I -"

"Quit wasting time! Excuse us, ladies," he said to Angelina and Alicia, shoving Fred towards Hermione. He tripped and just about landed on her, toppling gracelessly onto the step beside her.

"H-hi," she hiccoughed.

"Hi." God, he was sick. What kind of masochistic idiot threw themselves at a witch like Hermione, especially when she dated someone else? Do I want to die with a broken heart?

Then Hermione moved, and she snuggled up to him, sobbing quietly into his shirt. He let her do so. After all, he was in no position to argue. Not with Hermione needing him so badly.

A/N: 1-Fred lives post-war AU.

2-Slightly different take on Deathly Hallows; no Ron/Hermione kiss.

3-Voldemort wins AU.

4-Fred lives post-war AU.

5-Alternate canon, Hermione and Fred started dating fifth year.

6-Muggle AU, Fred's a comedian, Hermione apparently modelled for a cigarette ad for money.

7-Technically canon compliant, sixth year.

8-Extra scene for Half-Blood Prince.

9-Fred lives post-war AU.

10-Extra scene for Goblet of Fire.