Author's Note: Wah! The last chapter! The writing process of this was slow and sad, because I really don't want it to be over for another year till the 5th movie is released...and I'm not really happy with the closure of this chapter. I'm not as excited about it as I have been in the past. I was so tempted to draw this out and add another chapter, but after the final task, it almost feels wrong to add more. There's something I really wanted to do with a Wizards' Masquerade, but I think I'll pick up on that for the next fic. I'll miss you all, I'm not sure what my next project will be on here...if it'll be on here at all. I have a novel that I've been working on for quite some time that I'd like to see finished. I still may find time for an X-men fic, but we'll see.
Disclaimer: These characters are STILL not mine. Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling's.
George couldn't recall ever having seen Fred so riled up as his brother marched down the hall towards them, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets and his head held defiantly high. George leaned to the left, catching a glimpse of Hermione stomping the opposite way, and could only guess what disaster had occurred between the two.
"Lee, perhaps you'd better give me a moment alone with the beast, eh?"
"The pleasure is yours. See you in Transfiguration."
George waited patiently until his brother had reached him and then violently bombarded him with questions.
"What happened? What'd she say? Did you tell her about yesterday?" Fred waved off his brother and hoisted his shoulder bag from the floor to his back, shrugging off George's persistency with a sour glare.
"I'm done, mate, I give up." Fred's bitter gaze shifted to one of defeat and hurt, and George's eyes widened in surprise...no female had the power to do this to his brother, the very thought was inconceivable! And yet here Fred was, sulking and looking broken, while Hermione stomped in the opposite direction. "Me and Krum are dueling tonight, and she's as good as claimed herself his. I might as well just let Krum flatten me, there's no point to even trying now."
"Good lord man, get a grip on yourself! You sound like a bloody woman!" George slapped either side of Fred's face with the back of his hand good-naturedly and then persistently shook his brother's shoulders until Fred met his eyes. "She's told you before that she doesn't feel for that twit like she does for you, so why are you going to believe her now? She's just trying to get you riled up! Don't let her use her female guiles over you! For goodness' sakes, you're a Weasley twin!"
George's inspiring speech did little to motivate Fred as they walked. Instead, he moodily hung his head and glanced at his wristwatch. "I'm skipping class today to try and recuperate for the duel tonight. Get my assignments, will you?" Fred than turned and walked with defeat towards the common room, inspiring George to do something he swore that he'd never do, even for his best friend. He turned and chased after Hermione, he bag swinging against his sore side until he saw her reaching her Ancient Runes class room.
"Granger, get the hell back here." Hermione swung around, looking alarmed at the fierceness of George's voice, and then obviously let her anger seethe back through her as she surveyed him. She looked back and forth between her classroom and the twin, obviously unsure which was more important.
"If you've come to offer up a case for him, then do yourself a favor and save your breath."
"In my opinion, Fred's a lunatic for wanting to put up with you," George said bluntly, though the severity of his voice had dissipated and left him sounding merely explanatory. Hermione gaped openly and then shook her head fiercely, about to retort, but George hastened to cut her off. "But you have the right to know how thick you've been, Granger. Com'ere." He grabbed her arm and pulled her around the corner to where they'd be unseen by the students following in Hermione's tow to the Ancient Runes class.
"George, I'm going to be late." She persisted, though something in her mind warned her that she owed Fred's brother a moment of her time. George looked left and right, and then hastily untucked his shirt after setting down his bag and removing his robes. Dumbfounded, Hermione watched, until she saw that George was lifting up the side of his shirt to expose his toned side. She looked away, heat rising to her cheeks, and scolded,
"Whatever it is you're doing, stop!" After George remained silent to her objection, she spared a glance and allowed a gasp to slide through her lips. The boy's naturally white side was riddled and traced with deep bruising of blue and fleshy green, and it looked as though the swelling continued around his torso, though she could only see a small portion. After being convinced that he had the girl's attention, George dropped his shirt and put his hands on his hips in a Molly-Weasley impersonation that Hermione would never have expected possible from either one of the Weasley twins.
"Granger, you prat, the three of us were thrown overboard by the Slytherins and Bulgarians seconds after you disappeared. We had to swim back to shore before we were drowned. Fred's got a right nasty mark to match mine, and he took a hard hit to the legs." Hermione felt a curtain of shame sweep over her, and she placed a hand to her mouth to exhibit her shock. "Fred asked around about you the second we got back onto the grounds, and it was the first thing he did this morning...that is, right after he got lectured by Krum about being a fool. On top of it all, if you can imagine this, Krum convinced him to duel tonight for the right to pursue you...whatever rot that is. And Fred's still planning on going through with it, if you can imagine."
Hermione couldn't help it- she crashed into George and started crying pitifully, dropping her books to the floor and stomping her foot for affect. "Why didn't he just say so? This isn't fair. On top of all this mess w-with the tournament and Ron and Viktor...I j-just thought..."
"You thought wrong, Granger. Now please stop, your snotting up my dress shirt and it's the only clean one I've got left."
"Right, sorry." Hermione straightened up, heat rising to her cheeks as George awkwardly slipped his robes back over his shoulders. "You three probably should be looked at for those bruises...you might've cracked a rib or something..."
"Doubt it. Unless that's what this searing sensation is in my chest," George teased with difficulty, not quite so willing to forgive Hermione after seeing the damage she had inflicted upon his brother. "Anyways, I'm looking forward to having Fred back to himself, so if you'd take the opportunity to set this lovely mess straight, I won't have to slip some love potion into your pumpkin juice." Hermione paused, wondering if Fred could have possibly told his brother about the incident back in the fall...but before she could ask George, the twin offered a reassuring wink and sauntered off to meet up with Lee- the Weasley twins were more than back in good graces with Hermione. The problem would be getting Fred to forgive her.
Again, Hermione was wrong...the first problem would simply be in finding Fred. She skipped her Ancient Runes class and headed straight for the common room, hoping to find him resting and planning on making her mistakes up to him by nursing him back to health...but he wasn't there. She ran into Ron and Harry and slipped out a flustered excuse about forgetting her paper, than slipped back out to cross the length of the grounds with her eyes peeled for the twin. When she had searched the last of the classrooms, she decided that she and Fred were more than likely running circles around each other, and she collapsed on the solitary stone bench in the side garden with anguish marking her features.
"All right, Hermione?" It was Angelina, strolling along with a few of the older Gryffindor girls that Hermione only knew by appearance. Hermione lied through her teeth, muttering that she was fine and just getting a breathe air, but her deception was a pitiful attempt at disguise. Angelina excused herself from the other girls and sat down beside the distraught girl, whisking a black strand of hair out of her face to survey Hermione in a clearer light.
"This about Fred?" She asked cautiously. Hermione nodded, chewing her lower lip. "Listen, Hermione, boys truly aren't worth the trouble...I know you're fond of him, but really, I wouldn't have marked you the kind to sit around and dwell on it."
Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell Angelina the truth...tell her that she had royally messed up everything she finally thought she had gotten right. If her relationship with Fred had been an assignment, she would've failed it miserably and been denied the chance to retake the course...but Fred wasn't an assignment, he was a friend and so much more. Angelina continued onward wisely, and her words- though they addressed the issue from the wrong approach- gave Hermione an unexpected determination and valor.
"Whatever Fred's done now, it's not worth soaking in. That's just letting him get his way...I learned a long time ago that with those two you just have to put your fist down and pretend that you don't see them making fools of themselves. Things aren't going to get any better if you just keep-"
"Thanks a load, Angelina, I'll see you at dinner!" Hermione said and without further ado she jumped to her feet and began pacing the grounds yet again, leaving Angelina to stare after her in bewilderment. Hermione glanced at the sun, guessing that it was at least half past three...that left her with a few hours before dinner, and then a little more time would lapse before dark. A disturbing thought struck her- she hadn't a clue where this "duel" was supposed to take place. She wondered briefly if Fred would really go through with it, seeing as Viktor was older, stronger, and more educated than he was...then she remembered who she was dealing with and couldn't help but crack a smile. Fred wouldn't back down if he was facing Dumbledore in a duel...his stubborn attitude would forbid it. Suddenly Hermione struck gold with the realization that so many things that drove her mad about Fred, including his stubbornness, added to the fact that she was crazy about him. She couldn't wait to see him...and even if she had to immobilize him first, she would leap at him with a fierce hug and maybe even a kiss. Maybe.
"He wouldn't have gone alone...would he?" Lee asked, dumbfounded as he and George arrived at the bed chambers to find them vacant. George shook his head with equal confusion and worry, seeing that Fred's bed was rumpled and disarrayed as though Fred had tossed immensely. "Why'd he even agree to this bloody duel anyways? Better yet, why'd Krum challenge him, of all people?" Lee scratched his head thoughtfully, and George made a point of avoiding his gaze...he'd be true to his word, no one would know about Hermione...but he couldn't help but feel a bit panicked in knowing that Fred had set off for this absurd fight without letting anyone no where it would take place.
"We'll chalk it up as idiocy. Comon'. We haven't tried the forest yet."
"What's wrong with Hermione, do you suppose?" Ron asked Harry as the girl breezed past them with a half-hearted excuse. It was nearing the fifth time that they had run into her scurrying across the grounds in a flurry of robes, only this time, she had abandoned her robes in her passing of the common room and given in to pulling on her khaki jacket instead.
"I don't know. But that's supposedly the fourth time she's forgotten one of her papers for a class she doesn't even have today," Harry mused, though his face did not match his teasing face...something was stirring, something that he felt he should know about. He and Ron were both tired of being in the shadows to Hermione's secrets, which seemed to be developing more and more over the course of the year. The final task was approaching as quickly as the end of the term, and he would gladly appreciate Hermione's intelligence at his side...just as much as Ron wanted her back to help him with his overdue homework. Not to mention Harry felt he had enough to think about, what with his reoccurring nightmares and his scar burning so often, without Hermione adding to his concerns. The two boys were tempted to follow Hermione as she whisked away into the dusk one last time, but by some odd work of fate, they were heavily burdened with homework and opted to return to the common room. Hermione's oddities would have to be explained later.
Fred stood veiled in the shadows of the trees beside the docks, just as Krum had instructed him to do. The twin shifted his back against the surface of the bark as his eyes peeled through the dusky darkness settling over the ship that was hovering atop of the black, silky lake. Moments later, the hulky frame of Krum could be seen descending the gangplank and strutting from the dock with his ever-present awkward swagger, evoking a snigger from Fred's solemn being. He knew that despite Krum's appearance, the Bulgarian was both swift and agile: two characteristics that only added to his advantage of being stronger and more experienced than Fred. Maybe if Fred died, Hermione would like him again...the ironic, paradoxical humor to that thought made Fred flash a strained smile. Worrying briefly that Krum would miss his hiding spot and pass him by, Fred jokingly cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a poor bird cry that he thought any idiot could recognize...goofing around as he would have before the mess with Hermione relieved some of the severe fear that had been threatening to burst out of him. Krum glanced towards Fred; his eyes narrowed to peel the darkness, and approached the twin cautiously.
"What was that?" His thick accent was laced with suspicion and curiosity as he viewed Fred with a wary eye. The Weasley boy had abandoned his school robes and remained comfortably dressed for the fight, as he hadn't expected there to be any proper attire for a duel. He had remained in his white dress shirt with his Gryffindor tie loosely set around his collar, but instead of black slacks, he wore his classic brown trousers that his mum would have a fit seeing him wear in public for all the times she had tried to mend them ("No, mum, the holes give them character!"). Krum appeared quite the oppositely fashioned from Fred in the same deep shades of burgundy and brown he had worn during his grand entrance in the Great Hall. The thick, fur-lined coat made his chest appear even wider than Fred remembered it being; thankfully, he had left his Bulgarian winter cap aboard the ship.
"A bird, why, didn't you see it? Swooped right over top of you." Fred was tickled by Krum's daftness.
"No, I saw nothing."
"Yeah, crane or something. Anyways," Fred shrugged, straightening up with difficulty...he had gotten so comfortable leaning against the tree that he had forgotten how sore he was. Having no idea what Krum's proposal was for dueling, Fred decided to wait until the Bulgarian made the move, as he had doubtlessly done this more in his past then Fred. He would have had to, since Fred had never dueled any at all with an exception of Lockheart's pathetic attempt at the dueling club!
"This way." Krum skulked off into the night, walking the edge of the lake and constantly pausing to assure himself that they were not being followed or spotted by any students peering out of their windows from the castle's side. Fred walked a few steps behind, one hand clutching his wand in his pocket while the other frantically scratched the back of his neck- bloody mosquitoes. Krum finally stopped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, on a flat stretch of grass just below an incline leading to the castle so that they would be hidden from spectators. Not to mention they had walked so far back that the explosions issued from their wands would be muffled to silenced...Fantastic...no one to hear me scream...he's thought of everything.
"Ten paces, yes?" Krum whipped out his wand so fast that Fred heard the swish of it slicing the air. Immediately, Fred's body was overtaken with trepidation, and a cowardly voice within him begged him to surrender. He could have Hermione, she didn't want Fred anyways...go on, repopulate Bulgaria, I don't care! The sick humor that had been countering against Fred's fear painted a picture of Hermione serving some sloshing Bulgarian dish to a bunch of lopsided children who all sulked around with accents. No, she was better than that. Fred snapped his wand in front of his face, viewing Krum from either side of the narrow, wooden device, and then turned his back. Ah, too quickly...if his back was still in tact come morning time, it would worse than it had been waking up today. After a second's pause, he felt Krum's back against his, and the two both counted silently as they walked ten solid steps away from each other...
Each step floundered fear within Fred's gut like a fish in shallow water, but surprisingly, a stronger sensation crept into his being that he hadn't expected to kick in...determination. Perhaps it was because for whatever reason, Fred had bathed in the memory of Hermione while he waited for Krum at the docks and had recapped their stolen moments over the course of the school year...their brief dance at the Yule Ball...laying in the grass along the castle...their meeting in the hospital wing...yes. Know-it-all Hermione Granger was worth every bit of the turmoil she was causing him, and not just emotionally. Fred believed with all his being that if he survived the night, it would be with lesser limbs or a dramatically scarred face...and why shouldn't he? Krum was older, smarter, stronger...he had a nice, fluffy coat (Fred wasn't sure why this mattered, but the thought did linger in his mind as he tallied their differences)...there wasn't any reason Fred could have hope to last more than a few moments. Sweat pricked at his temple and warmed his back, though his mouth felt awkwardly dry in contrast. As his heel planted itself amidst his tenth pace, the twin swiveled around and extended his wand boldly, finding that in all his calculations, his fear had ironically subsided. The moment had come, and he belted the first spell that came to his tongue,
"Tarantallegra!" He didn't even have time to see if his spell struck home, for he had shouted his spell so loudly that he hadn't heard that Krum had released a spell in his Bulgarian tongue with a similar affect to the Incendio spell. Fred's left sleeve burst into flames and the twin dove for the ground, smothering his arm before any of his flesh was licked by the flames...he panted, alarmed in realizing that this duel had more resting on it than he thought. He rolled onto his back and slid his charred sleeve up his arm, pleased to see that Krum was experiencing the lasting affects of his spell. The Bulgarian was still fighting to control his legs, which were sliding about rhythmically as though fighting to dance all their own...the humor behind it was too distracting, and Fred didn't take time to guard himself from the next spell Krum had to offer.
"Conjunctivitis!" A blinding flash found Fred's eyes and warmth seared through his lids, making him cry out and struggle to his feet blindly. Why hadn't he been on his defense? He whipped his wand about and spat out,
"Avis!" Though Fred could only see shapes, he could hear the incessant twittering of tiny birds launching themselves at Krum. The moment was all Fred needed- he straightened himself up and gained his bearings before following up his first spell with a harsher hex. "Furnunculus!" Krum cursed out of fury as tiny, red boils appeared over his exposed skin and he felt them bursting into existence across his chest and back as well. Fred took the moment to dig his palms into his eyes, moaning at the involuntary warmth trickling out of the corners of his lashes...he was no good blind!
"Flipendo!" Fred's feet jerked over his head as Krum cast the jinx, and the twin landed with a solid thump on his chest, his arms cockeyed to either side of his body and the side of his face planted in the soil lining the forest. Krum wasted no time in advancing upon Fred with his wand extended towards the fallen boy's face, but Fred wasn't out of the running just yet. He lifted his wand quickly and countered with, "Expelliarmus!" Krum's wand whipped from his hand and soared softly into the brush of the forest, and for a brief moment, Fred was deceived by believing he had conquered the great Viktor Krum. It was only a hope. Krum wasted no time in resorting to his brute force and threw himself onto Fred, groping for Fred's wand and knocking it out of his grasp. Fred flailed his limbs about, drawing an elbow over Krum's bearded face and lifting a knee into his solid gut...but his attempts were in vein- this was where Krum's size paid off. The Bulgarian shifted his weight against Fred, stifling an expression of alarm when Fred cried out in pain...not only had his breath entirely left him under Krum's weight, but his bruised side was throbbing under the pressure. Fred slammed his fist into Krum's face in vein, earning himself a counter punch to the side of the face that left him imagining he'd be looking like Mad Eye Moody come morning. Feeling weak and defeated, Fred let his hand fall to his side...where it landed on a narrow, wooden instrument. He jerked the wand between him and Krum's chests and shouted "Stupefy!" so loud that he heard the echo before Krum's body slumped into an unconscious heap to his right. Fred breathed in deep, hardly believing he could be so fortunate...and yet something felt distantly alarming...he closed his eyes and panted...why were his lids covered in white dots? He felt so tired.
His hand fell limp to his side, and did not move again.
"Ouch! George, get off my feet!"
"Sorry, Granger, I didn't know you were here. Wait...those aren't my feet...Lee, get off Hermione's feet!"
"Sorry, Granger, I thought they were rocks..."
"You thought my feet were...? Oh, never mind. Any sign of Fred?" Hermione anxiously asked, though she couldn't make out the expressions on the two boys' faces. She had been marching along the grounds alone for some time now when she had stumbled (quite literally) into George and Lee, who had been calling out for Fred in hushed tones. Her fear for her friend had tripled in the amount of time it had taken her to reach this point, where she was past curfew on the edge of the Forbidden Forest...why would he be so thick as to privately duel with Krum? Better yet, why did he do it even after Hermione had been quite brutal with him?
Meanwhile, George's thoughts practically mirrored Hermione's, only he was more optimistic. He knew his twin and how slippery he could be...that, and he could honestly say with a bit of pride that the two of them were smarter than people gave them credit for. Fred might be able to hold his own against Krum...but if he was left alone to bleed to death or something, George would be less optimistic. Then he saw them...the lumpy shadows sprawled in the grass just ahead. He half hoped that they were some of Hagrid's escaped blast ended skrewts, but as soon as he saw the moonlight reflecting off the glossy red hair, he knew it was a Weasley.
"George, Lee!" Hermione simultaneously spotted the limp forms, and her voice was hoarse with worry as she raced on ahead. George's hesitation dissipated and he was on her heels in no time, though he made a point to let her reach Fred first...the first thing Fred would want to see when he came to would certainly not be George's face...not likely, anyways. Hermione slid to her knees between the two unconscious boys, surveying both of them with her breath held in her chest out of panic...as she placed her hands in the grass to support herself, her hand found a well-polished wand she recognized as Krum's, and she absentmindedly pocketed it along side of Fred's.
"Are they...dead?" Lee asked, keeping his distance as though afraid to see a dead body. Hermione gazed down at Fred, her hand on his chest, and was relieved to feel it rising beneath her palm. She shifted her free hand to his forehead and pushed a strand of damp red hair from his features, examining him under the lit tip of her wand. His eyes were swollen and tight- a well-aimed Conjunctivitis spell. His sleeves were rolled up, but his left one was black like coal and crusty as though burnt...yes, Krum had certainly done well. She turned to survey the Bulgarian and was relieved to see he was breathing healthily as well. His skin was broken out in pulsing and festering boils, and his face was already bruising from a touch of the Weasley brute force...Fred had certainly held his own. Hermione felt a warming rush of pride as she surveyed the two injured young men that had fought for her, and though she wished they had settled things civilly, she felt fortunate to be so well thought of between them. But the question remained, who had won? No, that didn't mattered now, and it wouldn't matter tomorrow. Boys would be boys, and these boys had been stupid.
In her focus upon the boys, she hadn't caught the curiosity and confusion that Lee was beginning to exhibit in seeing her treat Fred with such affection. It was not lost on George, however, and the twin dutifully crouched beside his brother to inspect the damage and to pass Hermione a warning glance. The girl caught his meaning and pulled her hand hesitantly away from Fred. Satisfied, George let out a low whistle at seeing Fred's eyes, but other than that, he was impressed. He knew Fred would give Krum a run for his money!
"How are we supposed to get them back to the castle?" Hermione asked, her voice barely a whisper as she thought of this. Not only was it past curfew, but if they were discovered hoisting two bruised, unconscious bodies around...there would be trouble. Especially for Fred. Krum would doubtlessly be excused by his headmaster for dueling, but at Hogwarts, fighting at wand point was strictly forbidden by Dumbledore himself; Fred already had quite a tally against him. There were some members of staff who'd leap at the opportunity to be rid of one half of the dynamic duo that stirred up more trouble within the school than any other students had in centuries. Hermione gulped, feeling the dreaded sense of uncontrollable emotions rise to her throat. Fred could've been expelled for this...he could still be expelled for this. For her.
"No worries, Hermione, we have lots of experience in hoisting around unconscious bodies. Don't ask." George insisted and carefully began to place Fred over his shoulder, rising to his knees and then coming finally to his feet. Fred's unconscious head whipped around loosely, and a deep moan issued from his groggy throat...however, before Hermione could have a hope that he was coming around, the moan lapsed into deep and shallow breathing. Lee had a much harder time getting Krum on his back, and he even needed Hermione to support him as he stood up and shakily began to approach a secret entrance to the castle that George claimed was unknown by anyone except for the twins and Harry. The five steadily and slowly approached the rear castle wall; every few steps, Lee had to get a better grip on Krum. They finally had to stop and remove his huge jacket so that Lee could get his arms around the poor unconscious fellow, and Hermione clung to the jacket to vent some of the anxiety that was building due to breaking school rules so late at night. After much delay, they continued towards the passageway, and Hermione dutifully watched Fred all the while and paused every now and then to push his sweat-laden bangs out of his swollen eyes. He truly was an idiot.
A strange sort of tingling sensation traced Fred's toes, waking him up. He opened his eyes, which felt sore, but not unbearable...instead of finding himself on the lawn as he had expected, he was in the Gryffindor Common Room, strewn in front of the fireplace with a handful of throw pillows and blankets. His feet were lazily propped up and asleep, which explained the tingling sensation, but he could find no remembrance of the previous night...only that he had beaten Krum...oh, he remembered that factor well. The twin struggled sit up on his elbows, noting that his shoes and tie had been removed and his sleeve mended. If he had been found by a professor, why wasn't he in the hospital wing, or at least in his bed? It was then Fred heard the distinct buzz of gossip floating of the back of the couch he was sprawled behind. He painfully came to his knees and peeked his head over the rim of the couch, seeing a handful of Gryffindor girls (including Lavender, Patil, Angelina, and Katie) looking in his direction with giggles ridden in their interested expressions.
What could Krum have done to me to get this attention? Then it struck him to look down, and there the answer was- Krum was lying limply across the couch, looking oddly peaceful despite his bruised jaw and gaping mouth. Fred grinned- yes, that was his work. However, the boils were all healed over and gone as though they had never existed at all. As though Krum's wounds had reminded him of the brutal beating he had earned himself the previous night, Fred shrunk back down behind the couch and cautiously touched his face. A single black eye was his only souvenir and reminded the Weasley of how fortunate he had been to find his wand strewn in the grass...fate had surely been on his side that night. Again, confusion hammered Fred more persistently than his sore limbs, and Fred lay back down to consider how he and Krum might've ended up back here. Even when he heard the sound of the portrait hole closing behind the exiting girls, he couldn't find any desire to follow them to breakfast...there would be no classes today, so Fred could simply lounge about and contemplate his luck. The portrait creaked open again; the thought struck him that Karkaroff would likely be throwing a fit in not knowing his champion's whereabouts, and that the whole school would probably hear about Viktor Krum dozing in the Gryffindor Common Room from the giggling girls. Fred didn't have much time to think of a good explanation, only he was unaware that he wouldn't have to.
Footsteps pried into his thoughts, and Fred listened for who had entered.
"He's drooling. Should we do something about that?" George! From the sound of his voice, he was hovering over Krum.
"Yes, we should probably get him a towel...or something..." Hermione? Fred decided to lie very still, though inwardly, he felt like letting out a whoop...George and Hermione...those two names alone in themselves were an explanation enough for how Fred wound up within the safe walls of the Gryffindor lounge.
"Not what I had in mind. I bet we could sell that drool for a couple of galleons..."
"George!"
"You're right, sorry. A couple of sickles at the most." Fred couldn't take it any longer. As much as his back detested it, he came to his feet behind the couch and frantically added,
"We could probably use it as some sort of ingredient, don't you think? I bet there are a lot of sorry blokes who'd try using a love potion on a girl that had Essence De Viktor Krum." George and Hermione's faces took on such shocked expressions that Fred couldn't help but laugh, though he regretted it as a burning flame traced up his side to remind him of his bruises. He leaned against the back of the couch for support and smiled at Hermione and his brother, who recovered in a moment's time and quickly came to his side.
"Who won?" George asked anxiously as he grabbed Fred's elbow and fairly threw him down into an arm chair. Fred nestled back into the cushions, very aware that Hermione was quietly surveying him from a distance. Fred took his time resting his heels on the table and yawning elaborately to draw out the moment. George smacked him in the side of the head lightly, causing a ringing sensation in Fred's aching skull and making the twin abandon his behavior and hold his temples in both hands.
"I did, I think." Fred was careful to gauge Hermione's reaction...she didn't appear angry, and for some reason, she even had a face of guilt. Her soft eyes refused to meet his and she was gnawing on her lower lip both thoughtfully and worriedly; her hands were tucked over her stomach as her fingers furiously wound themselves together- Fred thought he heard a knuckle cracking amidst the twist of her hands. "He definitely had the upper hand, but I lucked out with a stunning spell. After that, I must have passed out." He gingerly rubbed his hands through his hair and found himself accumulating his own barrage of questions without answers. "How did we get here? Does Karkaroff know where Krum is? Has Madame Pomfrey seen either of us- I mean, I noticed that Krum's boils were gone and my eyes feel better and all...wait...how long have we been out?" Fred suddenly realized that he and Krum could have been unconscious for days in the Hospital Wing and then been transported here without even realizing it...then he realized that his bruises traced far down his sides and that his legs were aching, and he pondered if Madame Pomfrey had seen to them at all. If she had, she probably would have had to strip him down... "Lord, I haven't been naked, have I?" The thought of that hovering, old bat seeing him made Fred feel sick and failed- despite the injury, the twins had always found a way around Madame Pomfrey's cures and treatments.
"No one is that unfortunate, mate." George and Hermione both laughed at Fred's panic, reassuring him that his pride was still in tact. Krum stirred on the couch, his strand of drool shifting against his burgundy collar, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing deep. "Me, Lee, and Hermione came looking for you...figured you for dead, actually, and you would have deserved it. What were you playing at, going off on your own like that and not telling us where you'd be dueling? Krum could've completely slaughtered you and no one would even have known about it!"
"Don't be ridiculous." Hermione finally spoke up, stepping over to the twins and sitting down on the coffee table. She paused to tuck her skirt beneath her legs and fold her hands in her lap, and then continued. "Viktor wasn't dueling to the death, he's not like that. I don't know why you agreed to the duel in the first place." Her eyes finally found Fred's and were lingering in pools of unspoken accusations and questions, but she settled on pursing her lips and surveying him with a steady eye. George cleared his throat, obviously feeling awkward as he scratched the back of his scalp and watched the silent exchange between the two.
"Anyways, we brought you two up here and sent an owl to the ship with Krum's forged signature, saying he was staying with some friends in the school to get a better look at Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory." George grinned, obviously proud of this diabolical scheme, but Hermione scowled and lifted her nose in the air to express her disproval. George glanced at her, rolled his eyes, and added perhaps just to goad her, "And Hermione forged the signature herself, she's got quite a skill. Wish we had had her around when we sold all those fake notes from Dumbledore to get out of class."
Fred feebly grinned, trying to imagine Hermione taking part in one of he and George's pranks...the image did not come easily. "Or when we made those fake Apparition licenses?" Hermione gasped and placed her hands over her ears, shaking her head as though denying to have heard either of them.
"Hermione worked most of last night patching you two up, though she couldn't fix a few of your bruises. She got your eyes back to normal and Krum's boils to fade." Hermione blushed deeply at the earnest thanks in George's voice, but her sheepish eyes were mostly for Fred as she smiled a small grin of pride. Taking his cue to leave, George came to his feet and winked at his brother, glancing briefly at Hermione before turning towards the portrait hole and sauntering out to meet Lee, who had been waiting impatiently in the hall for news of the two injured boys. As the portrait creaked to a close, Hermione cleared her throat and busied herself with her skirt again. The silence was nearly unbearable as Fred surveyed her, but just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Hermione rushed into a full apology.
"Fred, George told me about what happened on the ship...I'm so sorry...if I'd known, I wouldn't have been so upset, but I was just so frightened...then he told me about the duel, and I was so worried and so angry and so-"
"Ridiculous?" Fred prompted, but he was smiling. Slowly, so as to not upset his tired legs, he dropped his feet from the table and scooted from the armchair onto his knees in front of her so that he could crouch and look up at her. When Hermione said nothing, Fred gulped and pressed onward. "Granger, we've both been rather thick about this whole thing. Say we pretend this whole mess ever happened...go back to the beginning..."
"I don't want to go back to the beginning," Hermione intercepted, hesitantly pushing his red bangs out of his eyes and letting her hand rest freely on his cheek. "I thought you were detestable at the beginning, a show-off and a prankster who didn't know his full potential."
Fred laughed. "No one's saying that I'm not. I'm quite proud to fly my colors, thank you. That's just who I am. Besides, someone has got to keep you on your toes." He came to his feet and stretched his arms, feeling that the conversation was coming to a slow stop, but Hermione rose as well and looked up at him with an unsatisfied expression. After a moment's indecisive lapse, Hermione rose to her toes and planted a soft kiss on Fred's cheek, feeling the warmth flooding his face before she even pulled away. Grinning bashfully, she stepped down and shuffled backwards, refusing to meet Fred's wide eyes as he stared in elated shock at her. Finally, Fred grinned mischievously. "Knew I'd be keeping you on your toes."
Weeks passed, and with their closure came the final task...Hermione would have never guessed that it would come so quickly, as it marked the close of the year with a sad amount of finality. And despite the chill that was settling on her shoulders as she and Ron marched towards the arena, there was a sure scent of summer in the air to remind her that her time with her friends was waning. This summer she'd be returning to her parents, who although she missed, were no compensation for Ron, Harry, and of course...Fred. Pushing aside her nostalgic thoughts, Hermione focused on the fact that she should be concerned the final task was taking place after dusk...a brittle fog hugged the students together and hovered over their heads with a mysterious sense of foreshadowing, but Hermione was not fooled. She could tell that the fog had been layered to affect the "feel" of the task and to add character to the final event that was drawing all the houses and schools together as one.
Ron, however, could not sense the magic in the air. "Rotten night for fog, isn't it? I can hardly see you, and here Harry's supposed to be seeing whatever he's supposed to be doing. Do you think they planned this?"
"It's a possibility." Despite the anxiety she felt in expectation of the task, the girl was in a lofty mood that did not inspire her to rebuke Ron's oblivious attitude. Over breakfast this morning, and owl had arrived carrying what looked like a piece of muggle post, so Hermione assumed it was from her parents and pocketed to read during her walk across the grounds. When she had opened the broad, white envelope, however, the scarlet letter inside unfolded itself and hovered in front of her. "My god, how on earth did mum and dad send me howler?" Had been her initial thought, soon to be soothed by the fact that the red letter began to tinker a sweet melody plucked by a mandolin, and a golden scrawl flashed across the page as though being written at that precise moment.
"Hermione," she read as the music simultaneously softened. "Thought I'd let you know I've conned George and Lee into sitting behind you and Ron tonight so we can have a few words. I know you missed me at breakfast while I was busy drafting this for you. Do you like it, by the way? I think it'll sell nicely. The only problem is that it sometimes-" at this point, the letter had began to hover dangerously close to Hermione's face, and when she went to back away it had persistently and repeatedly flown at her. "-attacks the reader-" it began swatting itself against Hermione, and even as she grabbed its edges in both her hands to continue reading the script, it struggled against her hold like a miniature version of Hagrid's beloved monster book. "-but it's only a minor setback. Anyways. I'll see you tonight, Miss Granger." After a pause, the scrawl come back up hurriedly, as though Fred had wanted to add something. "P.S. By the way, you're standing in a puddle, did you know?..." Hermione glanced down at her feet, chagrined at not having realized the murky water was soaking through her dress shoes, and then hurriedly glanced around...how had Fred known to write that? She glanced up at the castle wall, eying the window to the Transfiguration classroom, and spotted a red head leaning against the glass and peering down at her with a grin. She enthusiastically waved, fighting to hold the squirming envelope in one hand as her stomach erupted in flutters when Fred waved back. She laughed as she spotted McGonagall's lanky figure standing next to the oblivious Fred, tapping her wand in her hand and scowling at the unexpecting twin.
Hermione sighed- that had made her day, and it seemed as though nothing could go wrong as she and Ron approached the din of students flooding into the arena. Luckily, Hermione had learned never to trust that sensation- things could always go wrong, especially being a student at a Wizarding school where conspiracies, mysteries, and secrecy lurked everywhere.
"Look, Fred and George saved us spots." Ron grabbed her elbow and dragged her through the students that were bickering over the best seats. It seemed that the twins and Lee had some kind of power over younger students, because there was a clean circle of empty seats around them that they were protecting with only the slightest unhappy glance towards approaching kids. Spotting Hermione and Ron, Lee waved them over- for a moment, Hermione thought that Fred and George had abandoned their wagering business, but then she saw that a few boys were slipping Fred some sickles in exchange for a gambling ticket. She scowled as she took her seat, knowing that she would never approve of Fred's habits and that he would never submit to her rule-keeping persistency. The band was playing an entrance tune for the champions, who were sauntering around on the grassy field below the stands with trepidation in their walk. Hermione didn't blame them- gazing out over the length of the maze, she felt dizzy and sick for what Harry might face within the grassy walls that were waiting for him. Though she longed to turn around and speak to Fred about that afternoon, Dumbledore had begun to address the rowdy crowds with his rumbling voice that demanded attention. After a few brief words, Mr. Filch released the canon to mark the start of the task, and Harry, Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric disappeared into the grassy fortress to face their challenge.
"Guess now we just wait." Ron mused, sitting down in a slump and yawning. Hermione sat down next to him, rubbing her temples...their band was nothing to be boasted about and tonight they were playing particularly loud. Even over the buzz of the music, she couldn't miss the hoarse whispering in her ear as Fred leaned forward and addressed her.
"What are you doing after the task?" He asked, pretending to be occupied with lacing up his shoes.
"Celebrating, I imagine."
"I'm guessing that means you think Harry will win."
"Of course!" Hermione was genuinely shocked at Fred's lack of faith in their friend, but the twin held up his hands defensively.
"Just wondering if you'd like to place a wager on that."
"Fred!" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Fred's feigned innocent expression. Over the next few minutes, the small group fought to occupy themselves until something exciting happened...Lee had brought his set of exploding snaps, so he, Ron, and the twins playing a round as Hermione drew out her Pocket Handbook for International Wizarding. She leafed through the pages, fascinated but finding it increasingly hard to concentrate with the crowd, the band, the exploding snaps, and Fred's hand purposely brushing her arm whenever he moved. She gave up on reading just as students around her began to point and exclaim in wonder and worry; she turned, seeing red sparks fly over top of the maze in a hailing storm of panic. Her throat tightened- could those sparks belong to an injured Harry? The boys came to their feet in the hopes of getting a better view, but Hermione worried that if she stood she would topple over out of trepidation...no, she would remain seated until Dumbledore and the professors returned with whoever was out for the count. The moments that hovered between the appearance of the sparks and the return of the teachers were long and pained, but as Dumbledore's gray hair appeared from between the brush of the maze, Hermione leapt to her feet with renewed strength. The casualty was Fleur, who merely looked unconscious in Hagrid's arms with vines slithering around her pale and slender body. Madame Maxime moved at incredible fast rate for such a large woman, coming down on her champion with furious worry in her grotesque frame. No sooner had the Professors emerged from the maze that a second explosion of red sparks flew overhead, drawing the same reaction from the crowds. This time the stretcher that hovered between Dumbledore and Moody held the limp and defeated form of Viktor Krum, who looked quite ill. Hermione, along with dozens of other girls, gasped and covered her mouth in worry.
"Oh no! Viktor!" She mumbled. Ron and Fred's eyes both simultaneously narrowed and Fred even fought a smirk at his elation to see Viktor knocked cold...when the Bulgarian had come to in the Gryffindor Common Room, he and Fred had willingly shook hands under Hermione's supervising eye- but that didn't mean that Fred wasn't glad to see him out of the running for the Cup. "Maybe I should go to him...just in case..."
"Yes. Lovely idea- hey, look, you can follow the four dozen other girls on their way to see him!" Fred's tone was friendly and mocking, but it held a point that Hermione couldn't deny. The truth was, even if she and Krum could never exist romantically...he was a good friend, and she was earnestly worried about his well-being, even if she did want Harry to win. The crowd seemed to half expect a third show of red sparks to erupt, but when nearly ten minutes lapsed, everyone grew restless and bored again and began to dwindle back to their semi-entertaining distractions.
"Me and Fred are going to have words with a few potential customers down yonder." George pointed at a group of Ravenclaw 5th years that were flagging down the twins with their coin pouches. The twins hoisted their wagering tools over their shoulders and scooted out of the row, Fred poking Hermione good naturedly as he passed and whispering,
"If you aren't too busy celebrating tonight, I'm going to take you on a walk. George said he'd cover for us." Hermione's face flushed with pleasure as the twins jostled their way down and out, reached the field level and consulting with students cautiously, so as not to be spotted by McGonagall. More time lapsed, and Hermione's anxiety grew to a peak...she didn't know whether or not it was a good thing Harry hadn't come back already. Nearly a half hour after Krum's return, a slight pop filled the sound of the arena, and the crowd and band burst into an elated din of celebration. Hermione stood on tip toe and strained her eyes towards the field, seeing Harry and Cedric landing in the grass with the Triwizard Cup strewn at their side...what, a tie then? Hermione paused, cheering with Ron to see that Harry appeared rather haggard and dirty, but alright...unless...was that blood? She strained her eyes more, fighting to see Cedric- but Harry was sprawled across him, holding him against his chest, sobbing. Something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, a shrill screamed pierced the air, and more and more students fell to a shocked silence as the darkness of the moment passed over them all in a wave of realization. Cedric's glossy, opened eyes stared at the night sky, and his chest was still beneath Harry's wracked body...the boy was dead. Hermione gasped, fighting to control her emotions she the horror of it all sunk in...
Dumbledore and other professors, along with Cedric's dad, rushed towards the duo. What was it that Harry was telling Dumbledore as Moody fought to pry him off the fallen body of Cedric?
"He's back...Voldemort's back..." Ice struck cold against Hermione chest, and she clutched Ron for support as a tear traced her cheek. Cedric couldn't be dead, it was unbelievable and impossibly tragic...but Voldemort, back? As much as Hermione wanted to criticize Harry's sanity along with the other surveying students, she knew that her friend had lived a nightmare to be in his condition...and for the pain and shock of Cedric's death, perhaps this was the only explanation. Cedric wouldn't have gone out easily to anyone but the Dark Lord himself. Ron held Hermione against his shoulder, and the two were overcome with the urge to seek out Harry and hold him amidst his grief, but Moody was taking the boy into the castle, away from the prying and terrified crowds. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted Fred and George being the first to step into the castle behind Moody and Harry, but even Fred could bring her no sense of happiness. It was as though all the joy had been wrought from her being, like a dozen dementors had breathed into her ear to inform her of Cedric's death...the cold still swept her body, begging her to cry, and cry she did. For Harry, for herself...and for Cedric.
Fred and George had seen the terrible arrival of the two final champions from an entirely different perspective and one even harder to bear. Fred set down the gambling box at his heels in seeing that McGonagall was eyeing the two of them warily; the twins took a moment to converse with the other students in a very non-suspicious way. Fred had just been laughing with a member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team about something Marcus Flint had done during last year's Gryffindor-Slytherin game, when his ears were filled with the crack of a portkey, and he turned to survey whoever had arrived. Immediately, Fred and George both froze and fell silent, hearing the silence prevail in waves behind them as everyone came to the stark realization that all was not well within the arena.
Before Fred even noticed Harry's distraught condition, he had seen the blank and pallid face of Cedric staring expressionless at the sky...he had never seen a dead body, but he knew one when he saw one. At first, the shock came in the form of staring and gaping, then it dissolved into a reign of pain that settled on his shoulders. He had not known Cedric well, but he had respect for him, and he and George had both had a few good laughs while in class with the well-known Hufflepuff. Dead? Never to laugh, study, or fly again? The notion seemed impossible, but it took a firm grasp on Fred's gut that made him want to double over in grief...Cedric Diggory had breathed his last, and by the sickly look of his deadened face, it had not been peaceful. What had happened? The twin zoned in just in time to hear Harry claim in a broken voice,
"Voldemort's back." Fred was not usually on to be taken by surprise, but he found himself openly gaping and allowing a fearful expression to settle over him. He trusted Harry, maybe even with his life. If Potter said Voldemort was back, Voldemort was back...and there was no telling what tomorrow would bring with such consequences. The pain-staking reality and connection between Diggory's death and Voldemort's supposed rise hit Fred like a punch to the chest...Cedric had been murdered by the darkest wizard ever known to the Wizarding world, and it had happened amidst Hogwarts' festivities. Moody jostled Harry past the twins and into the castle, and Fred had never felt so useless...what good were pranks and potions when a friend was in pain? What good were they if the Dark Lord truly was rising back into power? Fred wanted more than anything to grab Harry and offer words of wisdom, and yet he had none...even if he did, he doubted he would be able to speak them without breaking. Cedric was dead, and though Fred had nothing to do with it, he felt largely responsible and guilty. There were so many opportunities that could've been had with Cedric in life, and they left no echo in his death. Fred felt hollow, and he barely realized that he and George were leading a filing line of shocked and broken students back into the castle...he wished he weren't so prideful. He would have loved to have cried at that moment, but something stopped him, some masculine barrier that insisted he tried and be strong amidst the tidal wave that worked his feet. He managed to pass off wiping his moist eyes for simply scratching his nose, but George knew better...only because his eyes were moist as well.
"Today we acknowledge really terrible loss. Cedric Diggory was as you all know, exceptionally hard working, intricately fair minded." The great hall had taken on the appearance of a cathedral, lined with dark Hufflepuff banners that reflected everyone's sober moods and hung from dark pillars and arches overhead. The hushed crowd remained seated on the long, wooden pews except for Dumbledore, who was thoughtfully resting in his high-backed chair on a platform in front of the silent students." And most importantly a fierce, fierce friend. I think therefore you have the right to know exactly how he died." Fred bowed his head briefly, chewing the inside of his cheek. He knew how Cedric had died, he had heard Harry's words and they were enough to satisfy any curiosity he might have had for the dire subject. A chorus of sniffing from girls and boys alike concurred with Dumbledore's rumbling and sympathetic tone: strangely, as dark as the old professor's words were, his voice held comfort for everyone witnessing Cedric's procession." You see, Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. The ministry of magic does not wish me to tell you this. But not to do so I think would be an insult to his memory." In everyone's grief, they could find no power to be alarmed or shocked by this news...word of Harry's first words upon reappearing in the arena had traveled fast on the wings of gossip, and Dumbledore's honesty only reaffirmed everyone's vague suspicions. "Now, the pain we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds me, reminds us that while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one. In light of recent events the bonds of friendship we made this year will be more important than ever. Remember that and Cedric Diggory will not have died in vain, you remember that." Fred twisted his hands in his lap, and a tear wound its way down the curvature of his long nose and spilt down his neck...he was not ashamed to cry, not now. George sniffed beside him, and all down the row of Hufflepuffs, the boys on the team openly wept for their friend. Dumbledore's words rang with finality as he offered in soft closure," And we'll celebrate a boy who was kind and honest and brave and true right to the very end."
Even as he announced their dismissal, very few students moved to escape the resounding bells that rang in respect throughout the Great Hall. Fred leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and rested his head in his hands to massage his aching temples. The only reason that anyone finally decided to move was because it was the day of the Bulgarians and Beauxbaton' departure, and there were even more farewells to be offered besides the final farewell to Cedric Diggory. Everyone filed into the spacious courtyard, embracing and promising to write- but Fred and George casually refrained from interaction and leaned against the aged, stone columns in condolence towards each other.
"You alright?" George asked, shuffling his dress shoes into the dirt. Fred nodded silently and pulled his black robe over his head, slinging it over his shoulder with a deep sigh.
"I'm ready to be done here, you know? I like being here, but at the same time, I don't want to be here. Make sense?"
"Sure." George shrugged. "I feel the same way. We just weren't conceived for an education- we've received a higher calling." Glad to see the twinkle back in his twin's eye, Fred smirked. The muscle movement relaxed his whole being...it felt good to have a reason to smile.
"We should stick it out...for Dumbledore. He's a good guy, we owe it to him for all the strife, don't you think?"
"I agree. We can tough it out for Ole' Al. I figured we'd have to since our first year, when we snuck into his office and ate all his lemon drops..."
"He was so nice when we got sick on his throw rug from eating them too," Fred mused and scratched the back of his neck as he watched the friendly exchanges between the students. He had made friends from both visiting schools, but for the moment, he didn't feel deeply enough about anything except for Cedric's passing to pay his acquaintances heed. Hermione, on the other hand, had one particularly important farewell to give.
"Here," Viktor had taken her by surprise when she heard his deep accent from over her shoulder. She turned ever so slightly to greet him, and awkwardly found that he was pressing a small piece of folded parchment into her palm. "I want you to write to me." Little else was said between them, but Hermione knew that their correspondence would continue even if a romantic relationship could not...she felt something for Krum, and even if entirely in a friendship perspective, she wanted to maintain what had been built between them. Angelina saw the small parting gesture and quickly stepped over to the faintly grinning Hermione.
"Did Viktor Krum just leave you his address?" She teased, eying the paper with jealousy and giggling slightly.
"Yes...I think so..." Hermione giggled a bit as well. Would she have thought eight months ago that she and Viktor Krum would promise to correspond over the summer? Then again, would she have thought that she and Fred would be watering a secret relationship? What an odd year it had been...and what a terrible end it had been driven to.
"Are you going to write to Fred?" Angelina caught Hermione off guard with her quiet subtlety about the Weasley twin, who Hermione had spotted reclining with George against the wall.
"I-I...suppose that I will. We haven't really talked about this summer."
"I see." Angelina surveyed the younger girl with interest before she nodded her farewell and began chirping with Katie Bell and a few of the young Bulgarian students that they had managed to reel in with their sporty charms. Hermione absentmindedly stared at her back for a moment longer before snapping out of her thoughtful daze and deciding to regroup with Ron and Harry, who were waiting just a bit out of the crowd with forlorn expressions. As she approached them with her robes sashaying around her calves, she chewed her lower lip and fought the urge to glance over towards the twins, who had not moved from their comfortable position. She and Fred would have their moment alone later...after Hermione was given the chance to speak with her best friends about the growing dread in her stomach. Things would never be the same after this: at Hogwarts, at home, anywhere...change was unavoidable, but couldn't it be gauged? She was sick of feeling unprepared and useless...it was not a sensation she was used to amidst her status of shining Hogwarts role model. And yet things would change regardless of the opposition...the trick would be in mastering the response.
She had thought last September that she would control her feelings just like she could control change. How naive she had been.
It was obvious that although George wanted Fred to follow him back to the common room to finish packing their bags, he was resigned to let his brother wait for the chance to catch Hermione away from Ron and Harry. Fred waited impatiently outside of the columned hall that led to where the trio stood gazing over the lake, and he fairly sighed with relief when he heard Ron and Harry running on ahead to catch Neville and Seamus. The soft and steady footsteps of Hermione followed, and Fred waited until he could hear her feet on the stone behind him before he peeked around the stone pillar he had been leaning against and snatched her arm. She gasped and shook off his hold abruptly, though the pleasure in her face was obvious.
"Fred, don't do that! You scared me to death!"
"Well, you look pretty good for a dead girl, all things considered." The bleak irony of their words set in, and they awkwardly stood in silence as though waiting for their discomfort to fade. Noting the weary lines on Hermione's usually smooth complexion, Fred shifted his weight and asked, "Alright, Hermione?" She sighed and nodded hesitantly.
"I think I am. Really. It's hard thinking that all this has happened in the past few days...and I'm scared, and sad, but oddly- I'm alright. You?"
Fred shrugged. He really didn't know what he was...Cedric's death had taken its toll on all of them, and some of them were already in the process of recovering, but Fred felt as though he were in limbo. He could relate to Hermione's words: something felt wrong and out of place, but at the same time, it was countered by a peace in that for now all was well. He began to walk down the hall, hands in his pockets, and was surprised when Hermione's arm wound her way through his. The nagging burden of their relationship's uncertainty burned in his mind, and he found the gall to ask, "What are we going to do this summer? I'll write to you...but it'll be hard getting around the family forever with the post coming and going. Suppose we just tell Ron and the others-"
"No! Fred!" Aghast, Hermione stopped and stared at him. "You know we can't. Ron...he'd be...well...can't you just ring me?"
"Ring you?" Fred stared at her quizzically. What nonsense was she on about? "What do you mean?"
"You know, with the telephone."
"Ah, right, right. Dad's got us one of those, but you can't really expect us to know how to work it." Fred began to walk again, pulling her along with him as he gnawed his cheek crookedly. "You'll come and visit the Burrow, right?"
"I plan on it, yes."
"Then we'll see each other."
"That's not till the end of the summer, practically. Are you alright with that?"
"Yes...er- no. Well. Which would you prefer me to be?"
"I don't know." Hermione sighed again, obviously frustrated and drained. "Do you think...maybe we should just...wait?" Wait. What an easily misinterpreted word.
"Wait? As in not speak, you mean? Wait to see what happens, wait to see where it goes, wait to get older, what? What do you mean, wait?" Fred had dropped her arm and although he continued to walk, his eyes were flashing out as though he had paused to survey Hermione.
"Fred, please don't be mad. That's not what I meant." She shook her curly head and touched his elbow softly, her face taking on an injured look that relieved Fred of his temper. "I just was implying that perhaps all we can do is wait. I don't know what for, but it seems that if we don't wait, we're expected to take on some sort of status or tell people or- or- oh, I don't know."
"So you don't think we're ready for a 'status'?"
"I don't think we're ready to want a status, do you?" Hermione posed. She had not thought of the implications of the question before she stated it, and now the reality of her words sunk into her chest like a cool, refreshing drink. She understood what she meant and what she felt. She may not understand Fred, but for all her struggles, she finally understood herself. "I can't say that I want to think we're ready to consider ourselves more until I feel...well, more secure. I'd be so distracted by all the things wrong with us being together I'd stop noticing the things right with us being together. Does that make sense?"
Fred had remained silent, without argument, but Hermione had not known whether or not he'd agree with her words or be injured by them. The truth was, she did want to be with Fred...but she could not be his girlfriend with her conscience screaming at her that the Weasleys, Harry, and the rest of their joint friends deserved more of a notice. It seemed selfish for her to want to have Fred as a secret- it was tearing at her other friends, and she could not possibly give them an answer for her behavior. On top of it all, there was Cedric and Voldemort...right now, the world was bigger than Fred and Hermione, and they needed to take into account that perhaps now was not the most convenient of times to try and be together in secret. Hermione was ready for a time to come, but she was not ready to forcibly make one.
"I guess. I don't know. I just fancy you...a lot." Fred turned a sad expression upon her that begged her to reconsider her words, but the girl's mind was made up and she settled on holding his hands in hers.
"I fancy you too, Fred. I'm sorry things have been so chaotic between us...it would have been nice to have more days like the one on the hill, when we laid and talked for hours."
"I think we can steal one more." Fred's exuberant wink was back, and aimed down at her with a special gleam that Hermione knew would not fade despite the distance of the summer and the difficulty of their communication. "Come on, Granger," he kissed her forehead and then teasingly shuffled her bushy hair through his hands. "If you're going to spend the summer writing to Krum and not me, I deserve one last afternoon with you to myself."
"Fred!" Hermione scowled up at him, first because of her messy hair, and then because of his words about Viktor. "Don't start this again. You know that if I could, I'd be writing to you."
"You know what I think?" Hermione hardly had time to stop him before he stepped up so close to her that he towered over top of her and his shoulder nearly brushed her head. "I think that if you could, you'd be kissing me." A moment of held breath lapsed before Fred added in a less-than-smooth voice, "Erm...right now, preferably." Hermione laughed good-naturedly, a blush skimming her cheeks, and she took Fred's less than subtle hint and granted him a kiss. She hadn't planned on him scooping her up and spinning her around, but the warm movement reminded Hermione of why she had been so smitten with Fred to begin with. Their embrace was brief, but in its silent lapse Fred knew that no matter how Hermione Granger decided to define the term "wait", he'd be willing to do so...provided that she would forgive him after finding out that he had slipped Krum a going away present in their brief farewell. But after all, the Bulgarian had looked so nice with boils before; it'd be a perfect accommodation for his long sail back to Bulgaria. Fred grinned into he and Hermione's silent embrace...once a Weasley twin, always a Weasley twin, and no girl could ever change that.
I'm so sad! This is it, you guys, until OoTP! Thank you so much to all you kind reviewers who have returned over and over to encourage me in the slow and steady progression of this fic, your words will be missed over the next year. I've decided not to release another Fred/Hermione fic before the OoTP one, but to simply include their summer at the start of the next fic, as I think I might have less in the actual book to work with. I hope you all will remain fans till then and keep up on my other works, which at the moment, are at a bit of a stand still. I'd like to finish the first installment of Forsaken by summer's end, and then...who knows?
Thanks again, everyone. Please give me a final round of R&Rs to remind me why I like writing so much. :) You've all been wonderful.
Cheers.
Graici
"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans-" John Lennon