Chapter 37

Falling Moments

"So let me get this straight," Fred started as they joined the mob exiting the theater,"Even though that Gaston fellow didn't make her father a prisoner and enslave her in a castle-he's the bad guy and not the Werewolf?"

She laughed and shook her head, "He never would have made her happy-he had too many expectations of what his wife should be like, Belle would've been in a prison more so as Gaston's wife than in a lifetime with the Beast-"

Just like with Ron, she thought to herself. It had been a thought that came to her during the show. He crept into her mind like a shadow, one cast from the letter he had sent her earlier in the day, asking if she would be able to meet at the Burrow tomorrow before they left to get Harry.

She had forgotten the complex web she had woven over the last year. One so complex she could feel a sense of hesitancy in his letter-as if he wasn't sure what her response would be.

Watching the show, in no way did she think he was as vile or manipulative as Gaston aspired to be, she just noticed similar traits. Ones both she and Ron were guilty of. They had both had so many expectations for each other, for what the years of peace would hold. And no matter how much neither of them wanted to admit it in her time-in what had been her time-neither of them would be happy in the long run. Not so long as they were playing second fiddle to the other's expectations of what their happily ever after should entail.

She turned her head and looked up at Fred, his hair breaking free of the the gel he had put in it earlier, his bowtie eschewed and a carefree smile on his lips. They could be happy. She could be very happy with Fred. If her summer had taught her anything it was that. They complemented each other in such a natural way, and could move fluidly between their wartime obligations and the obligations of the heart. While she didn't know what the post war would bring for them, she wasn't afraid of 'what's next.' She was sure they'd rise to that occasion.

She just needed to make sure they would live that long.

"So if someone swooped in," he started pulling her from her thoughts as he draped his arm around her waist," kidnapped you, locked you away in some ruddy tower but gave you a library you'd be sending a break up Owl my way?"

She puckered her lips for a minute as though she was mulling it over, "Depends how good the library is," she shrugged , leaning in to his side as her hand snuck around his back, playfully squeezing into his side. "Is it big? Does it have a wide variety-Muggle and Wizard authors of multiple floor variety-If it has the perfect balance of natural light, has Bronte and Bagshot-"

"You little imp," he chuckled holding her closer as they continued on. She could feel his hand playfully knip at her arm,"I swear you'll be the death of me."

The warmth from his laugh fell cold,"Don't say that Fred-"

"Don't worry," he said and this time she could hear the jest in his tone, "If you are, I'm sure you'll develop phoenix tears and resurrect me like Belle did when she saved the werewolf.

"Fred he wasn't a werewolf-"

He dropped his arm around her and instead grabbed her hand, twirling her around in a mock spin. "Course he was. We can see the show again with Remus to confirm it if you'd like."

"Werewolf's don't have horns!" Hermione laughed as she returned to him, "Page 394 Defense Against Magical Creatures. Gives a lengthy breakdown on how to identify a werewolf."

"Ah my Belle," he smiled, his fingers lacing into her own as they tarried through the night, "How dreary will my world be when you've journeyed off to save the day."

"You work in a joke shop Fred, I doubt it will be dreary," she tried, but even her words seemed to fall flat. The thought that they soon would be separated-the mere thought that this was their last night alone-sent stronger chills down her spine than the London wind.

"So my dear Belle," he said, pulling her thoughts back to the present, "Do you think George and I would be cast as the tea cup and candlestick or one of those angry town folk-the men who got shafted because of libraries?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, "Hm, you know now that you mention it, you could be a good Cogsworth-"

"What? The clock? Hermione that's who Percy would be not me-" he said affronted, physically cringing. He wasn't alone in that moment. A cool summer's wind blew again down the street.

"I'm kidding love," she answered, swinging their hands. "If I'm you're Belle, I suppose that means you're my Beast. Just promise not to kidnap me alright? Harry and Ron need me."

She felt his strong hand squeeze her own, as though it was sealing the promise in his words, "Deal, although be careful with my heart. There'd be no point to anything anymore if something happened to you."

Her eyes flew to away to something, anything other than his face. She wanted to say "Don't say that-" or "Fredrick-" but it was easier to look away. She started to notice he was directing her towards a coffee house nearby, "Come on, let's tuck in for a night cap."

"It's too late for a coffee. We're not too far from the Leaky Cauldron," she started, before something clicked in her head, "Besides, since when do you drink Coffee?"

"I hope you have the sense to never drink something George gives you," he replied, his thumb tracing circles on her hand. "I've been searching for alternatives since he gave me that pepper up-fire whiskey concoction." Hermione watched as he physically gagged. He winked at her eye roll before pulling her hand along, "Come on, let's give it a go. We won't be able to talk freely at the Leaky Cauldron."

That seemed to settle the matter and the two of them walked into a pub pass the coffee shop that bore a pegasus sign. When they walked in Hermione felt like she was with Justin back by Eton. There was a group of men watching a football match at the bar while young couples lined the tables and friends laughed in booths.

"Whiskey please," Fred asked when someone came by to get their order, "And an order of chips."

"Same," she said. The waiter looked at the two of them and Hermione was half convinced Fred was performing a confundus charm on the waiter before he nodded and left to get their drinks.

She typically didn't drink. She hated the taste of fire whiskey, but had drunk it for Mad Eye and for everyone else she had loved who had died during the war. She thought that was the only way they had gotten George to Fred's funeral. The toast goodbye-

The show was over. The music may still be ringing in her memories but she was putting that way. She had to now. The last few weeks had been her days in the sun but it was time for them to end. She had to become the warrior again.

She knew this moment was coming. That it was necessary. That the quest that had been dropped at their feet was vital. It was unavoidable. So much depended on how the hunt of horcruxes was accomplished-Fred's life depended on it. That alone should be enough, she thought, to go through it all again. The Flight from the Wedding. Storming the Ministry. Snatchers. Malfoy Manor-

She had grown soft these last few weeks. This week alone, she had gotten used to waking up safely tucked under Fred's arm where absolutely nothing could harm her. His was a Beater and he wouldn't let any Death Eaters or their sympathizers do her harm. Not so long as she was with him.

But even that had an expiration date.

And that terrified her. Enough to where a small bit of whiskey was called for.

"What is it?" he asked, calling her out of her thoughts. He reached across the table and took her hand, " Is everything alright? What's wrong?" he asked.

"I got an owl from Ron this morning," she said leaning against the back of her chair. " It sounds like they're moving Harry tomorrow-he wanted to know if I would be able to make it to the Burrow in the afternoon." When the waiter arrived with their two tumblers, and a large basket of chips, she noticed quickly reach for his glass.

He cleared his voice for a minute and looked to his own drink. "Suppose it would make sense to get you there before Harry. Bill and Remus have been saying there's quite the plan coming together to get him out of there-they might need some help."

We're all going to need help.

"A toast," Fred said, lifting his tumbler, " To The-Boy-Who-Lived, ecetera, ecetera, may he soon earn the title The-Man-Who-Ended-It-All."

She must have given him a confused expression as he added very quickly, "You know, in a good way."

Their glasses clinked and Hermione tried to give him a smile. The burn wasn't as strong as with Fire Whiskey, which she was grateful for, but she was still sure she pulled a face. She looked at her glass and then back at Fred.

"A Toast," she mimicked, looking up with a shadow of a smile etched on her face, "To Fred Weasley, may he live a thousand years and not fall for someone else when I'm gone."

"Not possible in the slightest," he said clinking the glasses again, taking another swig. He looked her over again, "You don't believe that do you? That I'd fall for someone else?"

"I don't want you too," she answered, her eyebrows knitting together for a moment before she let out a frustrated sigh, "but honestly Fred, I could die-and if I do I don't expect you to stay a bachelor-"

His hand reached out and again covered hers, a warmth spreading through her that wasn't the whiskey. "None of that now," he said evenly, "Neither of us are allowed to talk like that. We're making it through this. You are the sunshine of my life and I won't let you talk like that."

She looked up at him, and had half formed a response before be interrupted her. "Forget Ron's letter. You know if you want to stay at the shop I could turn George into a talking candelabra for you? Just for a few days. Might be an improvement. Make Ron a clock when he storms into the shop inquiring where you are-" an impish smile flashed on his face, "Come on, I want to do this now. Please?"

That had done it. Just as they had done so many times they popped out from the waves of war for a momentary respite. "Do you think we could transfigure Lee into the kitchen stove too?"

"If we get through this wedding next week I could probably charm my mum into the wardrobe," he smiled and her laugh bubbled out.

"Would that make you the enchantress rather than or the Beast?" she asked, the glass pressed against her lips.

"There's only ever been one enchantress Hermione," he said with a smile "and she's sitting right across from me."

"Stop it," she mumbled, setting the glass down on the table, "You know as well as I-"

"I don't think you do know though," he cut her off, taking a chip and waving at her, "Hermione, if you saw yourself the way I saw you-"

"Are you really waving a chip at me?" she asked, trying to change the subject as her cheeks flushed again. "Come on, stop it Fred," she said, she could feel how red her cheeks were. At this point they were probably deeper red than his hair. "Really-"

"I don't think you know how incredibly beautiful and brilliant you are, or how much you mean to me," he finished before she could cut him off again. He held both of her hands now, brushing away their drinks to do so. "Do you know that Hermione? How much I love you?"

Her fingers curled into his, but she couldn't meet his eyes. She wanted to but she couldn't. She wasn't sure she could hide the frustrated tears that were stinging from behind her eyes.

She didn't want to go.

She didn't want to have this be their last night. She didn't want this to be the end. The next time she'd see him after the wedding was at the Battle of Hogwarts and what if she ran out of time and couldn't save him?

It was as though the air had been taken from her lungs.

"Hermione-"

"I don't want to go," she answered quietly, biting her lower lip to hold back the tears. She spoke quickly, hoping that would help, " I know I need to go, and I will-I just-I don't want to. I've never wanted to not do something more in my life than this."

"We can come up with something-" he started before trailing off, brushing his thumb against a stray tear, "We can-"

"Can we go home?" she asked, looking around the room one last time. She envied the couples sitting next to them. They didn't have an expiration date, at least not one that they knew of. She returned her eyes to Fred and was taken aback that the smile he always wore seemed to be gone. A cheap imitation resurfacing when he realized she had noticed his briefest respite.

"Let's go home,"he murmured. He put a few bills on the table to cover their drinks. Still holding his hand, they crossed the street to the Tottenham Court Station they had apparated to hours earlier. It had gotten colder since they had entered the pub, Fred again put his arm around her rubbing her arm as though that would do the trick.

The crowd had shifted over the course of the show and Hermione thought she saw a few of the Hags that frequented the Leaky Cauldron trying to figure out a ticket kiosk. They made it through the maze when Fred found the thing he was looking for-their little broom closet they had taken the portkey to hours earlier. Fred knocked twice on the door before the two of them entered.

"Did you think someone had taken our spot?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Having been walked in on, I try and make it a practice to make sure I don't do it to someone else," he answered with a shrug before resting his eyes on her. She didn't recognize that expression. It was one she was unfamiliar with. That's when she heard an unfamiliar voice in her head.

It's your last night together till the war ends, don't waste it on fears and tears, she thought. It sounded like Ginny almost and she wouldn't have been surprised if she had heard her friend say this.

She broke eye contact and pulled out her bag, rummaging the top and pulling out her wand to face the door.

"What are you-"

"Colloportus" She mumbled as a light blue jet turned the knob of the door before spreading to the door frame, an outline forming over the cracks. "There-I think that will do the trick," she grinned, returning the wand to her pocket and her hand to his neck "We won't be disturbed now."

The unfamiliar look on Fred's face seemed to fade, " He took a step closer to her and looked at her softly. "Smartest Witch of your age," he muttered, his hand sneaking up her back and into her hair.

She was going to make a comment about how that line was rather old, but his lips crashed down on her mouth before she could. He tasted like whiskey and laughter. In the small confines of their closet she could smell the lavender and lilacs from her perfume mixed in with his cologne. It had a pine edge to it-slightly woodsy but still not enough to mask the gunpowder that laced the shop. Knowing that the moment was coming when those pines and powder would be replaced with trees and smoky fires, heartache seemed to make it all crush down on her even more as she struggled on holding on to a part of it. Anything that would linger only as a memory of their happier days in the sun.

She was trying to hold onto everything. The feel of his hands-one at the back of her neck while the other steadied her back while her own cradled his face. She wondered if Fred was trying to hold on to these fleeting moment as he seemed to respond to her movements tenfold. When he deepened the kiss Hermione surprised herself by letting out a soft moan. He responded so enthusiastically to that one she nearly lost her balance and tripped into the supply cart. You can't snog him in a broom closet, the all knowing voice of Ginny chided. Her hands trailed down his neck to his chest where she gently tapped and broke away from his embrace.

"Home," she said, her voice hoarse and her head light, "Let's go home."

((*))

When they had returned to the flat above the shop, Fred had tripped and fell forward. She looked at the bed had an idea. As Fred regained his footing, Hermione snuck one of the pillows and hid in the shadows of the adjoining bathroom.

Maybe she was lightheaded from the kiss, or perhaps it was the whiskey. Maybe a combination of the two. But she felt much lighter than she had in the stuffy closet of the underground. It's your last night-she thought again-Make it count.

She could hear him mimicking her incantation, saying "Colloportus" to the bedroom door to grant them that extra bit of privacy.

She could faintly see him through the mirror sitting on the bed, amused with his wand work. The smile faded and he realized something was missing. He turned around behind him and called "Mione?"

The sound of the floorboard whining under his step tipped her off he was right outside. She felt her fingers curl into the pillow. If this ended poorly she'd blame it on her drink, but she knew there was little chance this could go poorly. The door creaked as he pushed in a little farther, "Hermione you there-tell me I didn't leave you in the undergrou-"

He didn't get the chance to finish as she hit him with the pillow, right against the side of his head,

"You want a pillow fight you little she-devil?" Fred asked, loosening his bow tie and lunging back into the room to grab the extra pillow, "We can do that."

At least that's what she thought he said. Truth be told, she couldn't quite hear his response as she had duplicated her pillow and was now trying to whack his knees. The scene was so unexpected she thought it was comical. Moments ago they were snogging in a broom closet and now they were rolling across the bed, chasing the other around the room with pillows as miniature pillows she had conjured reigned down on them like bullets.

She was grateful that Fred had thought to lock the door, but she was wondering if it would be good to put Muffiato on it as well. If poor George walked by now, hearing the noise of them running around the small room, their laughter echoing from its cornes, he would either think they had lost their minds, or perhaps taken his words to heart and were in the after effects of romantic evening. She wasn't quite sure whose pillow had split first but little white feathers were falling around them (and on them) like snow.

After a few minutes she cornered Fred and whacked him with a half empty pillow, knocking him down to the bed below.

"Do you surrender?" she asked. He had thrown out his arms spread eagle like a fallen giant playing dead. He reminded her of another play she had seen with her mum about Gulliver and his travels. He had feather fuzz in his hair, and she supposed she did too. Hermione fell next to Fred, slightly exhausted, but voice still strong as she repeated herself, "Did you hear me? I asked if you surrendered?"

Fred turned his face to see hers, his hand coming up and brushing away a feather from a curl. "That depends, what are your terms?"

"Hmm-"she said, turning her face from his to look at the ceiling, she hadn't expected that. She had just intended for him to surrender and for her to snog him-

"Wasn't expecting that where you?"

"Shush, I'm trying to think of good terms," she said, her voice more focused than it had been. Pushing the previous plan back for a few moments. "Oh I know-You mustn't provoke Ron between now and the end of the war-"

He attempted to laugh but it came out more as a wheeze. He tried to lift himself up."You know I think I can still win-just give me a moment-my jealous brother powers are surging. I'll have you asking for terms in no time."

She propped herself up on her side, nudging him down again. "I'm not done yet, that's just the first one."

He rolled his eyes, "Not provoke my brother, what else?"

"When referring to me in letters, or when it's just you and me, address me as the sunshine of your life," she laughed, taking his hand in hers, "I liked the sound of it when you said it earlier."

"I do hope Scrimgeour gets someone else to draw terms of surrender when we beat the Death Eaters," he smirked, brushing away another feather. "Anything else my dearest sunny?"

A part of her wished she had finished her whiskey earlier.

"Yes, and I think this will get you to comply with the others," she said, still propped on her elbow. She leaned over, brushing a feather from his own eyebrow. He froze, as she seemed to commit to memory every little detail of his face. She could see that quidditch scar from when he was younger just above his left temple. The spray of Weasley freckles she knew so well, as well as that flicker of mischief that lived in his eyes.

Her one hand pushed down on his own while her other traced the outline of his face.

"What was that final term?" he whispered, taking a strand of her hair between his fingers.

"Oh right," she answered, and she could feel the flush of blood to her face. She straightened up ever so slightly "One last term" she sighed, and then leaned down, her lips tickling his ear. "Kiss me," she said softly, her lips turning to his. This kiss was slower than that had when they were in the closet. It was as if she was trying to memorize every movement they made. "Kiss me," she breathe again, the words spilling like kisses in and of themselves. "Kiss me Fred. Kiss me so I'll remember."

He smiled against her lips, tenderly taking her arms and putting them at their home behind his neck, rolling over so he was now hovering over her. "These are by far, the fairest terms of surrender I have agreed to," he sighed, cupping her face and drawing it to his.

She couldn't remember ever kissing anyone like she was kissing Fred. Never had it meant so much. Never had she poured out this much of her heart for a person. This kiss was just as much for him to remember as it was for her, and she wanted him to remember all of her. Because should something happen-should Harry's success depend on her death-

"Thought you'd like them" she responded, pushing the thought away before their lips met again. The whiskey on his lips still lingered, but there was something else. She knew he didn't want her to leave. He peppered her neck with soft kisses that made her laugh, her fingers curling around his arms with pleasure. She wanted to stay in that moment. His hand stroking her cheek while the other traced down her side.

Her fingers like lightning, traveling from their home at his neck down his chest where they had stopped. That's when they acted on their own. When they were so disconnected from Hermione, when her mind was so drunk on Fred's kisses she didn't realize that they were fidgeting with his shirt buttons trying to get them open.

She opened her eyes for a moment, to see what Fred's reaction to this was. There wasn't much a reaction that she could notice, he just softly nipped her bottom lip. He didn't seem to notice her shaking hands until-all of a sudden he did.

He rested his hand over hers, swallowing them in his grasp and stopping them in his embrace. His lips gently brushing against her forehead. "It's late," he said, rolling on his side, trying to feign exhaustion. "And I think you're operating on some liquid courage. Come on, let's go to bed."

" I-" she stopped and looked down, the spew of feathers thrown around the room, his blazer on the floor. She looked at her reflection in his mirror. The girl who had left this flat hours ago in her sharp blue dress and plaited hair was unrecognizable with the girl behind the glass. The dress was wrinkled from all their running and rolling. The plait was so far gone that with the addition of feathers she looked like she had a halo and smudged lipstick.

"I'm rather silly aren't I?" she asked, more to herself than to Fred when she had finished her evaluation. No wonder he had stopped her-she looked drunk. Perhaps she was. Could you get drunk after a tumbler of whiskey?

"Farthest from," he said, getting off the bed and kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. "You are an amazon, the sunshine of my life-"

"Oh shush that-"

"And if we keep going, and trust me I want to- it'll be something you remember-but maybe something we're not ready for. Besides, we go there and like hell I'll let you disappear without me. And Ron most certainly will know and be provoked. Might have a brawl at the wedding, which would mean all three of us would die in a triple homicide by the mother of the groom. And maybe Fleur."

He propped himself, pulling her to her feet with him like she was a rag doll. He took her in his arms and lifted her chin up towards him before allowing one arm to drape her lower back and his free hand brush her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her again, one last time. She placed her hand against his chest, spreading over his heart as the other rest, at the back of his neck, playing with the curl at his nape.

"That's to remember me by," he whispered, his voice a little gentler than it had been after some of those last kisses. Their foreheads resting against each other, never did she love him more than in that moment when he had known better than she could. "There's more where that came from when you come home to stay" he smile and she laughed, the two of them sharing breath in their close embrace.

She felt his hands squeeze hers and could feel the smile in his words as he said, "Now come along sunny, lets go to bed."

((*))

Hermione woke the next morning a little more groggy than she had anticipated. She wasn't fond of Fire Whiskey, she didn't know why she had thought the muggle equivalent would be better.

It was something a lot people had done after the war, started drinking. Trying to forget without performing a memory charm. They had been particularly worried about George before-Lee and Ron had kept a close eye on him those first few weeks just to be sure he would do anything too extreme.

But what could match the extremity of having your twin ripped from you?

Last night, she wanted to forget what was coming. What was so close. She had realized that in less than twenty-four hours she'd be in Ginny's Room at the Burrow, Harry sleeping safely in Ron's room. Fred and George-so long as they wore those flying caps-would be preparing for a quiet, uneventful Sunday at the shop, two ears on each head.

And Fred, she thought-bits of last night coming back to her. Had she really thought about seducing Fred Weasley? She wondered how much of that had been her and how much had been her drink. She remembered the two of them going to bed, how he draped his arm around her and crooked his head to where it rested near her shoulder. He had started telling her a story, but she couldn't remember it-not all of it. One that involved the two of them after the war.

And with my Sunny by my side, we'll spend a thousand splendid years in Mallorca where no one can find us.

She remembered that, and it tore her in two. Hermione the romantic, she knew needed to be sent away. She needed to be Hermione the warrior.

Because it would all start today.

She reached over for her purse on the night stand and pulled out her book and flipping to today's entry. She had the pairings. She wondered what would happen if she did a sticking charm on Dung, or perhaps cast an anti-apparition jinx on him so he wouldn't be able to disappear and leave Mad Eye. She had had a year to plan for this moment and didn't have the slightest idea how she was going to save him. Maybe if she volunteered to go with Mad Eye and Kingsley took Mundungus-but even that seemed fraught with disaster.

If Mad Eye's Death was a fixed point, if she went, would she die too? What would that do for the war effort? What would that do to Fred? Would it hurt less if he saw you fall to your death disguised as Harry?

The sound of water rushing to the shower next door caught her attention. Fred was getting ready for another day of working at the shop, and she'd have to say her goodbyes. Setting her journal under her pillow, she got out of the bed and tied her hair into a messy knot, the frizz of the well worn plait beyond recognition. She had on her pajama bottoms and one of Fred's Quidditch shirts she had stolen earlier in the summer. Carefully unlocking the door, she poked her head down the hall before she headed to the kitchen.

She started going through what had become her routine. She turned on the kettle and let the water boil as she raided the fridge for the eggs and peppers. She had gotten quite good at omelettes but she wanted today to be special. The last breakfast at Number 93 until the war ended. Instead of doing it the muggle way, she tapped the egg carton and they flew in the air, cracking in two, sending the contents into a bowl as flour and sugar followed suit. She had just conjured fruit to start washing and chopping itself when she felt two arms wrap around her from behind.

"I was going to make you breakfast in bed," he mused into her hair as a smile spread on her face. She turned around to face him, her own arms mimicking his "I was already up, besides, we need to think of our break up story."

His arms loosened their grip, "Our what?"

"Fred, I'm going back to the Burrow," she sighed, " I'm going to talk to Ginny and see Harry tonight. I'm going to have to come up with some story as to what made us split remember?" Her hands now rested on his chest and she went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, "It's just a story, I'm not breaking up with you."

"Don't scare a man that early in the morning," he said, hugging her tightly, "Nearly knocked the air out of me. I could've died!"

"Easy there Casanova," She winked and turned around, adding milk before the breakfast mixed again over head, "Harry broke up with Ginny to be noble, make sure the Death Eaters wouldn't target her or your family."

"We could say you did the same?" Fred shrugged, waving his wand to clear the table and summon the lone Weasley tablecloth before dishes came zooming his way.

"No, it would make Harry feel awful-he'd blame himself and make it his sole mission to get the two of us reunited before we left," Hermione explained, "the Chosen One as a matchmaker is something I don't want to see."

"What about we got in a row about you leaving? I kept telling you you could say and you'd have nothing of it?" he suggested. "I wanted to come and you shot me down."

"I like this," she smiled, "You wanted me to choose between you and Harry and-"

"No, no that's too out of character for us," he argued, walking back towards her. "Yes I'm not happy about you going on a prolonged excursion with Ron and Harry but-"

"Ron!" Hermione said snapping her fingers and tapping his chest, "You got jealous of Ron!"

She watched as Fred bent over to feign a hurl, "Hermione you're killing me-"

"Well think of it, I'm going camping with two teenage boys-"

"I try to forget that every morning dear heart," he interrupted.

"My best friend and your brother who has been harboring a crush on me for years-" she continued, folding her arms and looking up at him with mock annoyance. "You're afraid that I'm going to get lonely and miss you and-"

"Stop it," He said taking a step closer, "Stop, stop Stop it-" his finger now infront of her lips, "I'm going to move this and when I do, you're going to stop this unnecessary torture of your loving boyfriend, do you understand?"

She smiled and brushed aside his hand, "Alright then, what do you suggest?"

He puckered his lips and moved to her side, leaning against the counter. "Two sides to every break up. You broke up with me because there was a war going on. And even in the face of death, Hermione Granger is practical. No need to harbor a relationship when there's a chance one of us is going to die-you more or less said that last night so don't argue" he warned, "You figure that's going to be you and you're breaking up with me in hopes to spare my feelings should you die."

His words stung more than she had anticipated; that was a very practical view. It's what the old Hermione-the one who fell through time-its the one she would have formed herself. Hadn't she thought that when she had started this relationship with Fred? No-the mission had always been to save him. Still, there was something eerie about his analysis.

"Was that payback for my Ron bit?" she asked.

"A little," Fred winked, taking her hand. "Now, I'm a fighter for our cause. I'm absolutely in love with you and I am going to have none of your practical nobility" he continued. "I'm going to offer to come with you-and that offer later turns more into a demand-"

She rolled her eyes, "Which I would take so well-"

"You would," he laughed, rolling his eyes, as his voice lost some of its warmth. "I wanted to come with you so badly, to keep you safe-to keep us together. Maybe help Harry-never help Ron-but just to be there and help you."

She reached out and found his other hand, looking up at him, "But I told you you were needed here. That George needed you. That it'd be too dangerous with the two of us together-something would surely happen-and because of us we'd be blindsighted"

He turned to look at her and Hermione felt the emotions of the last week bubbling in her. Of the two of them fine tuning their plans for the wallets. Laughing during his lunch hour. Going to the show. Her halo of pillow feathers and terms of surrender. He brushed away one of her morning curls.

"We're better together," Fred said hollowly, "That's what I said, We're better together."

"And then I said if my future has you in it, it's' because we did our duty where we were needed during the War," Hermione sighed, looking up at him, trying to read what he was going to do next.

He beat her to it, lifting her up on the counter behind her and leaning in for the kiss. She had tried to memorize everything last night and commit it to memory but she realized how much she had missed. After his shower, he smelt of pine more than he did of gunpowder. In addition to the quidditch scar on his cheek, he had laugh lines that were starting to carve themselves into his face. It didn't matter if they were at their tower or in his kitchen, she knew he loved her. She knew he wanted her to stay-but he understood why she was going, and despite their jokes on the matter, she knew he wouldn't try and talk her out of it.

"This has to be the most cordial break up," Fred laughed between kisses, resting his forehead against hers,"I don't know how many end with a snog."

"Me neither," she laughed, straightening the collar of his shirt and smoothing his hair from her fingers, "I'm looking forward to the bit where we kiss and make up."

"We get to do that?" he said excitedly, "That's actually a thing? Oh well-let me tell you, as soon as you three has saved the world you best be ready."

"Is that so?" she asked, leaning back against the cupboard, " As soon as I'm done dodging curses I should expect you?"

"You can expect me to be there while the curses are flying," Fred scoffed, rolling his eyes, "But you can rest assured when all of this is over, the entire Wizarding World is going to know how I feel for you."

She winced, "Tell me you're not going to make a statue?"

"As tall as the shop, right in the main room," he said with a mischievous grin, " And the title will be 'Hermione Granger, The Girl-Who-Kept-the-Boy-Who-Lived-Alive, Also known as the Sunshine of Fred Weasley's life Fred."

She rolled her yes, "You're impossible."

"I might be Sunshine, but we're possible. Nothing's impossible for us," He said kissing her forehead.

"Morning" George said, leaning against the kitchen door frame. He had also dressed for the day and walked in on the scene with the fascination of a muggle stumbling upon a car crash.

Hermione moved her head to see past Fred's and get a better look at his brother. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to pick up some lines from brother dearest," George winked, he looked up above their heads and pointed, "Did you forget something?"

Hermione looked up and saw her bowl still mixing ingredients, floating three or so feet above her head. "I think I might have over stirred the pancakes."

She watched as George made a tutting sound with his mouth and walked across the room to a closet where there was a yellow apron. "Hermione, you get ready. Fred," he threw another apron across the room, "You clean up the first breakfast. I'll mix up something."

"George, please let me-it's my last day here-"

"Nope," he insisted summoning his own ingredients from the fridge, "You've had my brother for the last 18 hours, I get the next twenty minutes."

She looked over at Fred who nodded his head, "He only has his good ideas for such a short window in the day, we have to make it count," he smiled before she made her way down the hall and into the shower.

((*))

"Remus came last night," George said as soon as he heard the water start in the bathroom. "He wanted to talk to both of us but I said you were out with a lady friend-"

"Really George" Fred started, mildly irritated, "We're trying to keep this quiet and you just throw it out to Remus?"

"You snuck off to see her in Hogsmeade three months ago, don't talk to me about throwing things in front of Remus," George chided back. He turned from his mixing bowl and looked at his brother, "He wanted to know if we could be part of Harry's guard tonight when they pick him up."

"Of course, that goes without asking," Fred said, his irritation with his brother fading, "Who else is coming? Or is it just us?"

"From what it sounds like Bill, Fleur-Dad and Mad Eye" he paused for a minute, "Kingsley is supposed to get off tonight, Tonks, Remus, Ron-" he paused again, "And Remus was hoping on asking Hermione."

"If Ron's doing it, and it's for Harry, she'll be there," Fred answered, not realizing he was scrubbing the bowl harder than necessary. "That's a pretty large guard, what exactly are they expecting?"

"That's where it gets complicated-There's going to be seven Harry's leaving," George sighed, "Dung came up with the idea-"

"And we're doing it?" Fred said alarmed, "Don't get me wrong I like Dung as much as you, but I wouldn't trust him to run a rouse like this?"

"Mad Eye signed off on it-I guess the Ministry is cracking down on Magic around Surrey for Harry's Protection so we're relying on a Dung Plan."

Fred thought for a moment, stopping what we're doing, "So six of us are going to what, take polyjuice potion and pretend to be Harry?"

"That's what Remus said," George answered. He stopped from his work on the eggs and turned to face Fred, "Listen, it's not my favorite plan either-but they reckon doing it tonight will be the best way to get Harry out. He said we're going to be on broomstick and you know how good we are in the air."

"Right," Fred said, still thinking now of Hermione. "Hermione's not good on a broom-is she-"

"Probably be on a Threstel," George shrugged. "Bill and Fleur are."

Fred jumped at this, "Do you know who we're going with? If we're paired off?"

"You're not with her Freddie," his brother said quietly, "She's a Harry too. Can't have a Harry traveling with himself."

"But who is she going with?" he asked. He was quickly losing both his patience and his appetite with his brother's morning debrief.

"Remus didn't say, I'd imagine Kingsley or Tonks. Both skilled Aurors who will be able to focus on the task at Hand and get her to the Burrow safely," George said, his voice hard and even. "Merlin Fred, I need you to wake up. Your summer holiday is over, both you and Hermione are in the resistance, so wash that romance out of your brains and get ready for what's coming."

Before Fred could respond he could smell Hermione's shampoo. "What did I miss?" she asked with a smile, sitting at the table grinning at both brothers.

"Remus just came over to debrief about picking up Harry," George smiled, his voice pleasant compared to the tone he had just used with his twin. "Sounds like we're going to do a master diversion and might need to sample so Polyjuice de Potter."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking from George, then to him before back to his brother. "What are we-"

"All disguising as Potters," Fred interrupted, putting his dish away, " George and I will be on brooms but it sounds like you're taking a Threstle out of Surrey."

There was something off about Hermione. Her face seemed calm but her eyes were in a panic. "Well, if we're going to be in the air, perhaps we should try a field run of those Defense Helmets I was working on?" she started, trying to feign excitement, "I mean, they were made for something like this. If you're going to be on a broom and I'm on a Threstle, maybe safety first would-"

"We'll bring them tonight, George promised, "Here, first batch of pancakes are for you Hermione," he winked as a plate floated her way. "Oh-and Remus wanted me to pass on the message to you that Tonks would be by around noon to take you to the Burrow, He-er-promised she'd be discreet about where you've been."

"Good of her," Hermione nodded. Fred wondered if she had roped together a story for where she'd been for the summer. He was curious to what exactly he would tell Ginny when she was put under interrogation in a few hours.

He was also curious to why Hermione was fascinated with doing a test run of the Defense Helmets tonight. He and George had never rushed an item that quick between conception, development and execution and here Hermione seemed determine they became standard issue.

But instead, he joined her and George at the table for the last breakfast he knew they would enjoy for a while. The last hour had been a blur of goodbye kisses and now battle plans, but he knew their last hours were going to be in the shop he loved, with his brother and his Sunny.

((*))

Hermione was in the backroom waiting for Tonks when she arrived.

"Wotcher Hermione," Tonks said in her absolute happiest voice. She was positively beaming. Her hair was a shade of pink that was brighter than Hermione had ever seen, in a sleek bob that grazed her chin. Hermione also caught a glance at the thin gold band on her hand and she smiled-she had forgotten about the wedding.

"Hello Tonks," she said, picking up her rucksack and bag. "It's good to see you-"

"Oh put those down, I haven't been to the shop in ages," Tonks smiled, waving her bags down as she peaked in a crate that made a growling noise.

"D'y'know what that is?" she asked with excitement. Apparently a werewolf wasn't the only draw to dangerous living…

"They're working on another home defense product I think," Hermione shrugged, "George is leading it, didn't really say what it was."

"Brilliant," she continued as she ran her fingers over a cauldron.

"Congratulations by the way," Hermione said, gesturing at the ring, "I'm guessing you and Remus got married?"

"Oh, yes," Tonks beamed spreading her hand wide and showing it to Hermione, "This last Tuesday, It was really simple. Just Mum and Dad at the Ministry. We didn't want to upstage Bill and-honestly I think if I let Remus have it later it wouldn't have happened at all."

The curtain parted and George peeked his head through before coming in altogether, "I thought I heard our favorite Auror."

"Did you know she's a Mrs Auror?" Hermione asked, grinning as George strode the distance between them and took Tonk's hand. "Oy, Fred!" he called , "Come back here?'

"Did your beast eat a doxy?" Fred asked as he came through the curtain, "Oh, Hullo Tonks."

"Freddie, Tonks is a Lupin now," he said, motioning at Tonks' hand, which was over her mouth as she tried to suppress a laugh.

"So is it Tonks-Lupin now? Or Lupin-Tonks?" Fred asked George.

"Might be just Lupin," George shrugged, "Is it Lupin? We need to know how to address our wedding gift."

"You three," she laughed, and Hermione smiled being included in the group, "You can call me whatever you like but if you call me Nymphadora I'll turn your insides out."

"Always a pleasure," Fred said, taking a step back. "Err-have everything Hermione?"

"Here Tonks, let me show you something I've been working on back here-we're going to tune it into the radio project Remus might have told you about," George interrupted, "Good if I steal you for five minutes?"

Tonks looked at Fred and then Hermione and smiled knowingly, "Sure, I heard your dad's tinkering with radios again-"

Hermione watched as they walked through another curtain and turned to Fred with a shadow of a smile, "So your brother, Remus and Tonks know about us?"

"George said I may have been less than clandestine while working with Remus this spring," he shrugged, "I don't think we'll need to worry about them blabbing. "

"Right," she answered, looking down at her shoes, " So when we see each other next we're going to have to pretend we're not together. Maybe a little more distant because Ginny and Harry will think we've just broken up."

He sat down at the workbench across from her, "So I can look at you we just can't make eye contact?"

"Or physical contact probably," she said, walking over and sitting next to him. He took her hand in is, holding it tightly between the two of them.

"I'm going to miss this," He muttered softly, "I've gotten so used to having you close-it's going to be worse than last year-"

"It'll only be for a little while," she lied, taking her free hand and putting it over their embrace. It would actually be almost nine months to the day till they saw each other again, but she didn't need to tell him that. She was angry at herself for coming to that conclusion, "And it's not like we'll just be sitting by waiting for the other to appear-you're going to be running the shop, the wallets and radio while I'm on the mission with Harry and Ron."

"That's true," Fred nodded, squeezing her hand, "with a full load like that, it'll fly by."

He turned his head to where they faced each other, "So, until next time, What are you thinking?"

A smile broke from her face, "Nothing," she laughed, "Nothing at all, you?"

He gently kissed her, one of their more chaste embraces, "Nothing. Except that we have a war to win."

"Yes we do. And you have a wedding to get to," Hermione reminded him.

"That we do," Fred nodded, he paused for a moment and looked down at her, "Would it be awkward to dance with your ex at his brother's wedding?"

She shrugged, bumping his shoulder, "We might be able to make one last exception. We'll just have to be a little less evolved than we were in Mallorca."

"A shame really but-"

"Righty now," George interrupted as he and Tonks came back. Tonks was carrying a big box which George took from her and placed on the workbench, "I'll shrink these down and pass them to Remus next time he stops by, probably can't travel with them today."

"Thanks George," Tonks grinned. She then turned to Hermione and asked, "Ready Hermione?"

"Of course," she said, as her fingers slowly freed themselves from Fred's. "George, you'll bring the hats tonight?"

"Course I will," he nodded, helping her with a rucksack "We'll see you in a little bit."

"Well then, Goodbye you two-Thanks for letting me stay after-the Prophet bit," she started. She looked at George and then Fred who was now up from the workbench, standing beside his brother.

"Anytime, your cooking is better than my burnt offerings," George winked, turning to his brother, "Ready to go back to work?"

"Yeah, it was a bit of a rush earlier-Goodbye Granger, see you at Harry's," he said, in what she knew was a feigned casual tone. She couldn't help but notice Tonks staring at the two of them in the exchange before her eyes settled on Hermione.

"Right, they've put up a lot of extra security on the Burrow, we're going to have to apparate near by and then walk in. Want any help with your bag?" she asked. Hermione already had her rucksack on; she shook her head and took Tonks hand. The last thing she saw of Number 93 was George, and Fred looking at them. Their eyes meeting for the shortest moment before everything swirled around and they landed in an overcast on a hill in Devon.

((*))

"Goodbye Granger-he says," George started as soon as they returned to the loft hours later. Verity and Lee had come in for the closing shift, allowing them to get ready and head to the rendezvous point before they'd go fetch Harry. On any other day George would be praddling off about something or other to distract them both from the coming fight, but today he insisted on over analyzing he and Hermione's Goodbye.

"What, we're pretending we've broken up-I called her Granger before we were together I'd fall back into that habit-"

"Yeah, maybe four or five years from now," George mocked, rolling his eyes, "Certainly not four or five hours after you two have been snogging and making eyes at each other."

His brother paused looking around their living area, "You know it is different with her gone. She always seemed so happy to see us when we came up for the night."

"Happy to see us?" Fred asked, folding his arms and looking to George.

"I suppose she was more excited to see me, a little variety for spending every possible moment with you," his brother winked. He walked over to the table where Hermione had left a note of last minute reminders-move all the muggleborn wallets to the loft's annex-she had done that yesterday, checked and initialed.

"Oy, did you make any progress on that Skiving Snack to make it look like Ron's got Spattergroit?" Fred called down the hall.

"Figure we can test it tomorrow. At worse we may lose and appendage but it should make Ron seem very ill very quickly," George answered once he returned from the room. "We'll need to give him a pepper up potion right after it happens. If we grab him after the ceremony he can chug it down during toasts."

"Good" he mumbled, "She made it sound like they were going to leave immediately after the wedding so it'll be good for Ron to have one final appearance and one that he looks ghastly at. Make the bluff that more believable."

George nodded in agreement, "What about you on the stuff to make the Ghoul look like Ron?"

"Gave Hermione a starter list so they can get started before the wedding-luckily there's so many similarities between the Ghoul and Ickle Ronnikins it shouldn't be too hard."

Fred could hear his brother snort and looked up to see him shake his head, "Do you think we're too hard on him?" George asked.

"Nah," said Fred, "Besides, if we were he expects it at this point. Any change in brotherly affection would probably tip him off or assume something was wrong."

"Quite right," George sighed, "So we have our brooms-did Hermione leave anything? She didn't have much with her."

"Here, I'll look," he started but he already knew the answer. Hermione had her bag meticulously packed. She knew where everything was and probably would have been prepared to run if she had to. He didn't expect to find anything in his room.

He looked in the corner were she had her stuff assembled hours ago. Everything gone. No trace of her in the medicine cabinet. Only her pillow left a lingering presence. He fell into the bed to hold it for the slightest moment. That's when he felt something.

Under the pillow was a worn looking book, with an ancient cover. The pages seemed weather worn and ancient. But Fred knew this book-he was rather familiar with it-he just hadn't seen it in almost a year.

George stood in the doorway, "What's that?"

"Hermione's diary," Fred said, flipping through the blank pages, "I didn't know she had been writing in it this week."

His brother's eyebrow arched, "Curious to see what she wrote about you?" he asked.

"No" Fred lied, shaking his head and putting the book on top of her pillow, and then grabbing it again, "I'll just give it to her tonight once Harry's safe at the Burrow."

"Right, because that won't look odd," George said rolling his eyes. "Come on, we'll take it over when we take Harry his birthday gift. Slip it out of the bag before we hand it off, no one will know better."

Fred looked at the journal again. He didn't want to read it-not all of it anyway, just the last few days-

"Besides, we have to take those silly hats she made, she can go a day or two without writing her history of the war," George said defiantly, turning to walk down the hall when he instead circled back to his brother's room.

"I've been thinking of those hat-I don't like the ear guard. We have a hard enough time hearing up there without them, with them we're not going to hear anything," he started looking to Fred.

He knew she would have a lot to say on the matter if she was here, but Fred agreed with his brother, "Alright, let's take off the ear guard. We can still keep the hats but your right, there's no use for them in the air."

The two of them walked into the living area and took the bag Hermione had put together over the last week, pulling them out one by one and removing the earmuff coverings. "At least now we'll be able to hear the Death Eaters coming," George smiled, donning one himself, "Now I just look like Frankie First year's stolen Dobby's hat!"

Fred took the hat from George's head and tossed it back into the bag, "Don't let Hermione hear you talking like that."

George grabbed the hat out and put it on again, this time a little lopsided, "Hear Hear!" he scoffed as the two continued to go through the hats and undo Hermione's work.

The clock would soon chime. Fred knew within the next hour he would have to try his new acting assignment, but there was a feeling of foreboding that seemed to linger. It wasn't the act that was scaring him, but rather the feeling that the would have to have their wits about them. If he had learned anything over the last six summers, getting Harry out of Surrey was never uneventful.

AN: This has been one of the most challenging yet enjoyable chapters I've written thus far. I rewrote the first two sections 3 different times and am proud how it turned out...still a little too fluffy/angst for myself, but I credit that to writing while having Titanic on in the other room (whats more tragic than love being taken down by bouyancy? Love being separated by Voldy!) so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

There is a lot of things that were crammed in this chapter, a lot of forshadowing and snogging (for the record-snog scenes and I don't get a long...It's something I'm constantly trying to work on from a writers end). I have a few projects coming up the next few weeks, but I will try and have the next chapter up well before Memorial Day Weekend.

Please let me know what you think and leave a review.I love hearing your insights and your feedback on how it is all developing. A special thanks to my friends outside the internet who have read this-Thank you for sharing all your thoughts, theories and listening to my ramblings, etc. etc., you are all little rays of sunshine in my life.

Until next time, KH