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Part 3; Memories Work their Magic

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It really shouldn't be a surprise that Hermione managed to get not only herself but Harry as well completely through the Seventh Year curriculum in only six months. Ron was close, but hey, he's Ron. He still had another month's worth of lessons at least ahead of him despite all of Hermione's nagging.

So the two of them ended up with some free time while Ron tried his hardest to catch up with them. They decided to take their N.E.W.T.S. together so, when Ron wasn't asking for help, they had oodles of empty hours for me to work my magic.

Man, would this be easier with actual magic. Plotting the Muggle way is hard.

And it doesn't help any that the one I'm plotting against is just about the cleverest girl alive. I really have my work cut out for me.

But I am Fred Weasley. I am nothing if not determined. Not to mention brilliant, devious, and all out mastermind extraordinaire.

If this weren't for Hermione's own good, I'd almost feel sorry for her

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The first time it occurred to me that maybe my plan was a little…premature, was about a week after I decided that Harry was perfect for Hermione. I wandered into her room around midnight because I thought I heard crying and discovered I was right. She was lying on her bed, hugging her teddy bear, and tears were falling rapidly down her pale cheeks.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was heading towards her, the automatic response of a man who wants to comfort the woman that he loved. Only when she didn't respond to my saying her name did it dawn on me that she couldn't hear me, or see me. I was there, but not to her. To her, I was gone. Forever.

Then a sliver of light broke through, casting itself across Hermione's stomach as her bedroom door opened. I saw her posture stiffen, and her breathing even out as she tried to calm down and conceal the fact that she was crying.

"Hermione?" Harry asked softly. "Where have you been?"

She didn't reply, instead, she sat up, her back to Harry, and wiped hastily at her face. "I'm fine, Harry. Go back to bed."

With a small smile that Hermione couldn't see, he retorted, "I didn't ask how you were, I asked where you've been. But I guess I have my answer to that first part."

Fresh tears spilled down her face as she said "I just miss him so much," her voice thick and breaking with each word.

Harry was beside her for a second, arms tightly around her shoulders and her face pressed into his neck. "Shh, its okay, Hermione," he whispered.

"I wanted to go with you guys today, Harry, I really did." Hermione's words came out in a tumble, barely distinguishable with the tears lacing them. "But when I got up this morning and I opened my closet…I saw the present I got him back in March and I just…I couldn't do it."

"Leave it to you to buy a birthday present when we were on the run," he chuckled.

Hermione laughed, though it came out more as a hiccup with the tears mixed in. "It was perfect for him." She took a deep breath and pulled away from Harry, pushing her hair back from her face. "Was Mrs. Weasley upset that I wasn't there?"

"I think she got it," Harry said. "George couldn't go with us either. He waited until later and went by himself. He refused to let his Mum make him a cake or anything."

That's when it hit me. My birthday. That's what they were talking about, why Hermione was crying. She was thinking about me more than usual because that day was supposed to be my birthday.

Wow. I can't believe I didn't remember.

Harry left, and Hermione settled back down onto her bed, hugging the teddy bear she always used to bring with her to the Burrow, the same one I used to tease her about because I thought she was cute when she got all red and flustered. It was the only thing I'd found that actually unnerved her-at least until we started dating and I found a few more, ahem, interesting things.

That was the moment I knew for sure that Hermione wasn't ready for another guy. But it was also when I saw for myself just how much Harry cared about her.

Something in my chest began to hurt. I can't explain it, but it just plain hurt. It was the first actual feeling, emotion, that I'd had since the battle. I had simply assumed that, being that I was dead and all, I wasn't able to have emotions anymore. And yet the idea that someone could care for Hermione as much as I did really, really hurt.

Perhaps it sounds a little backwards that the idea of someone caring about Hermione upset me when I was out trying to find her another guy. The only thing that explains it is that I wasn't thinking it through all the way.

And I realized that if I found another guy for Hermione, someone to care for her as much as I had, that it wouldn't be too much of a stretch that she'd care for him just as much. Maybe even as much as she had me. Maybe…she would even love him.

That really hurt.

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Six months after I died, Hermione took off the ring I gave her when she was fifteen. Yes, fifteen. It sounds young in theory, but I loved her, and I wasn't about to let someone that brilliant and brave get away from me if there was anyway I could help it.

Her taking it off…I felt another deep chest in my heart. If it had still been beating I'm pretty sure it would have ripped its way right out of my chest.

Hermione has this box where she keeps all her little keepsakes and stuff. It's a music box that her Grandmother gave her when she was seven and has ballet dancers drawn all over it and one that pops up and twirls when the lid's lifted. The first time I saw it was the first time it hit me that bossy little know it all Hermione Granger had a girly side. It was adorable.

There are a few things from me in that box. A candy wrapper from a bag of Honeyduke's chocolates we shared the first time we went into Hogsmeade just the two of us. The flower I floated to her during a Quidditch practice she watched one day, making her blush scarlet all the way to her hair. A note I passed her at dinner. Letters I sent after I left school. And now the ring I gave her was going in there as well.

Being completely honest, I never really expected to fall in love. I wasn't exactly against it. I was all for girls and fun. But love…that wasn't really my main goal in life.

Then Hermione happened to me and all I wanted was to be with her. But I didn't get forever. All I got was two years where we were separated almost the entire time. But with Hermione, it was enough just to know that she was thinking about me.

She deserved better. And I want her to have it no matter how much it hurt me.

"Hey, Hermione, you ready to go?"

Harry stood in the doorway of Hermione's bedroom wearing his coat, gloves in hand, and looked at the box she held in her hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Just putting some things away." Grabbing her hat and coat off the bed, she walked towards him. "Is Ron coming with us?"

Grinning, Harry held her coat out for her to put it on. "Nah. He's doing Potions."

"Oooh," she laughed. "I hope Kreacher doesn't start swearing when he sees the kitchen."

"Maybe we need to set up a room for him," Harry mused as I followed them down the hall. "If for no other reason than keeping him from setting the table on fire again."

They laughed, heading down the stairs and out the front door. After the door shut it hit me-really hit me.

Hermione didn't need to play matchmaker for her and Harry.

They were falling for each other all on their own.

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A/N: I realize that Jo has said Fred and George were born on April Fool's Day, but since it wasn't actually in the books, I'm disregarding it for now.