Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Fred liked the feeling of being alive. It was nice to walk across Diagon Alley or into Hogsmeade without trying to avoid being seen. After his second shower of the day, Fred stared his reflection in the mirror. In two years he had changed. There was a thick scar across his right cheek. And no many how many times Fred washed his hair it still remained a darker red than before. His blue eyes, however, still held the same laughter and sparkle it did before the war.

He thought back to his brothers, George and Percy.

Using the towel from around his waist, Fred began to dry off his body. His five toes that slightly stacked on one another were finally that white again, and he was able to see the freckles on his legs. His mother was once again right. When he took the shower the first time, he was just ready to get out and see the rest of the family. Most of all Hermione.

His thoughts returned to linger on George and Percy. Their reactions were the exact opposite from what Fred had expected. Percy was usually the calm rational one, taking everything in. Everything had to happen for a reason. George was the one that should have punched his brother. It was just something that George did. He missed his family, but it seemed everything was topsy-turvy. Well, minus his mum. She was still the same as ever, and Ginny, still the fiery head that was madly in love with Harry.

Fred finally slipped on a pair of green boxers and headed out of the bathroom, drying his hair with the same towel as he went along. He glanced up at the top of the stairs. The door was shut, and he had hardly seen Ron all day. Well, besides that outburst from earlier.

Fred finally felt sorry for his younger brother. He looked down the other way, down the stairs. Past Ginny's room, and into the living room. His mother was expecting him to come back down so she could feed him more. Sighing for what seemed the third time in the past ten minutes, he walked up the stairs; he threw the towel into one of the rooms. Fred would have to remember to pick it up again later.

He slipped on his white shirt and raised a hand to knock on the door. But what would he say? He thought back to how Ron hated Fred for being alive. Sorry for being alive, Ron, but I had to do it until I was sure there were no Death Eaters endangering my family? No, that just sounded stupid to Fred's brain.

Again another sighed. He was just going to have to do what came best. Improvising.

"Go away!" came Ron's angry voice, after the knock.

"If you don't open this door Ronald, I will curse it open!" Fred threatened. He realized that he had left his wand in the bedroom.

Ron slightly opened up the door and peered at him. "Oh, it's you," he sneered. Fred's shoulder's slumped. It wasn't going to be as easy as he had previously thought.

"Ron, look we need to talk," Fred stated firmly.

"I refuse to talk to you," came the remark. The door was slammed again.

Their mother's voice echoed through the house, "RONALD! STOP SLAMMING DOORS THIS INSTANT!"

"Or what!" he challenged.

"OR I WILL PERSONALLY SEE YOU SPLINCHED!"

Fred raised an eyebrow. That was a weird remark, even for their mother. With Fred being home, her brain must have been working in over time. She had insisted that he wait until Arthur arrived home. Then, Fred would be able to tell the story about how he survived.

But Fred didn't want to wait any longer. He knocked again on the youngest Weasley's door. This time, however, there was no answer.

"Ron, open up." Fred banged on the door, trying to get the overlooked male to open up. "We need to talk."

"After you talk to the rest of the family? No."

"Is this about Hermione?"

"I knew."

The door opened.

"You knew?" Fred asked, taking one step in. He glanced around, looking for some sort of prank. A trap. Something that would kill him for sure. "Did she tell you?"

Ron's blue eyes shifted around. They looked at the ground, the door, the walls, Fred's bare feet anywhere but into Fred's own eyes. Ron made his way over to the bed, sitting down waiting. It was when Fred shut and locked the door that Ron released a sigh.

"I knew while we were on the hunt for the Horcrux. She kept moaning your name. It wasn't like I was blind either. I saw my chance, around our fifth year, but somehow I managed to bugger that up."

Fred sat on the ground, his back against the white door. He could remember living in this room for nearly thirteen years of his life. When Charlie left, it was when George and Fred had gotten the room on a lower level. It was great.

"Tell me about how you escaped."

A/N: I have a billion excuses like any author, one is dealing with a fanfiction of Twilight. Sorry for the cliff hanger. I needed time to write a long-ish chapter about how Fred escaped. This also doesn't take away from Ron any. Which is what I want.

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