Oh, wow. 40 reviews for 18 chapters is even more than I could hope for. With an average of over 2 reviews per chapter I could push this fic to 100 reviews - so huge thanks to everyone who is reviewing.

And to the people who aren't reviewing, no biggie - I just hope you enjoy this! Is it just me, or is anyone else a Fred fan?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling, bless her.

Chapter 19

Ghostly Encounter

2nd October, 1998

Every month Alicia visited Fred's grave.

May, June, July, August and even early September had been full of life, with green leaves, blossoming flowers and chirping birds. Now... She wouldn't call the Forbidden Forest dead, but most of the bright leaves had already fallen and dulled, going from cheerful yellow to ugly brown, and the gold shine of Fred's plaque had lost its glorious aspect and now merely looked out of place among all this deadness. The last flower deposited there had already waned. They could all have charmed them to stay beautiful much, much longer, but it seemed an insult to Fred's memory, as though they simply didn't have the time to bring him fresh flowers.

She pushed her crutches away, set the yellow rose on the plaque and traced the name with her finger. Fred Weasley. There was a time when even the thought of the name made her giggle. Another time when it made her dream. But now? She felt the first tear slide down her cheek and bowed her head, bracing both hands against the plaque as sobs rocked her body. Within moments there was a small wet spot on the plaque, tears joined in a puddle. When she could control herself again, she stared hard at it without blinking. If she blinked, more tears would come – she knew it.

"I wish..." she whispered, then stopped.

She wished? She wished so many things it would be impossible to list them all. But the most important were impossible themselves – she wished Fred were alive, she wished she could have said good-bye, she wished she could walk without crutches, she wished Katie were awake.

"I wish," she whispered again, one more tear trickling from her eye and falling to the ground.

She leaned on her left hand, drew her right arm back and punched the golden plaque with all her strength. It hurt like hell, but she felt better after doing it. She did it two more times, then collapsed in a heap on the plaque, sobbing uncontrollably. The cold metal against her cheek was oddly soothing, as was the sight of the bright rose just inches from her nose. And it felt good to just lie down, roll up into a ball and cry. It reminded her of when she was little and scared of the dark, when she would curl under the covers and squeeze her eyes tightly shut. Or of nights with Fred, snuggled up against him. Except now there were tears, and there wasn't Fred.

She didn't know how long she lay there. She had a vague sense of it getting dark, and then cold. She welcomed the darkness, and the cold didn't bother her – she just wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and buried her chin in her chest. She stopped crying. At one point, it rained. She pulled her hood down over her eyes and paid no mind. A tornado could have swept by and her only reaction would have been to curl up even more tightly. There could have been a tsunami coming from the lake and she would have slept through it. Later, a particularly strong gust of wind easily sliced through the fabric of her cloak and robes to ice her bones. She blinked twice, realised the rain had stopped, and threw her hood back. The moon had risen; it had to be the middle of the night. She remembered for the first time that she was in the Forbidden Forest. On its edge, maybe, but still. All the rumours about werewolves (the moon wasn't full, thank Merlin) and giants and Acromantulas suddenly came back to her. Back when they were all still at school, Lee, Fred and George would have fun telling extraordinary stories about their ventures into the Forest. At the time, they had intrigued Alicia who, despite being skeptical of the veracity of these tales, had always found the Forest fascinating. She wasn't intrigued anymore. Now she was just spooked.

And what was with this wind? It was unnaturally cold, and it just wasn't stopping. Not short gusts, but one long, long, long gust of wind that wouldn't stop. Ghostly, said Alicia's subconscious. But since the war Alicia's subconscious was always saying dark things, so she had taken to tuning it out. And she was so good at it that she fell asleep.

As she closed her eyes, she could have sworn she felt a hand on her cheek, and heard him whisper (it had to be him), "I'm sorry." And she was smiling as she fell asleep.

She woke to birds chirping and the sun shining and hands shaking her roughly by the shoulders. She blinked, rolled over, yawned, sat up, and blinked again.

"Finally! I thought you vere dead."

The voice sounded relieved, and maybe a little concerned. It was a man's voice and belonged to a man's body and a man's face. She blinked again, feeling dazed; it took her a moment to digest the voice, to take in the face. She recognised him, but she had never spoken to him before.

"Are you completely crazy? You vill catch your death," he said, and his accent was somewhat less thick than she remembered. "It's dangerous."

"I'm fine," she said, pulling herself up to her knees.

She tried to stand, but she still wasn't much good at this and she sank back down into a sitting position. He grasped her forearms and pulled her to her feet, strongly, and held her in that position, supporting the part of her weight that her right leg couldn't bear.

"You are hurt," he said, but his voice was flat and lacked inflection; it wasn't a question. "How long have you been lying here?"

"I'm fine," she repeated, but didn't try to pull out of his grip; she would have fallen.

"I have heard," he said quietly, "about what happened here. Britain lost many loved ones here. I'm sorry."

"Can you give me my crutches?" she asked.

He wordlessly bent to pick them up, and she leaned on the tree behind her to keep her balance.

"Be careful," he said, watching as she took the crutches and shuffled with them for a second. He saw her shiver, and a second later he had thrown his cloak over his shoulders. "Dress varmer, next time. And go home." And then – maybe he sensed that she really didn't want him here – and then he left.

As soon as he was out of sight, a shiver ran up Alicia's spine despite the heaviness of the cloak around her. With it came the same feeling of a presence that she had felt when she fell asleep, as though Fred were there. This was why she often visited his grave. She couldn't remember ever having repeatedly been to someone else's resting place, but when she came here, she felt close to Fred somehow. It was a cold yet familiar feeling; she wanted to lean into it and stay there forever. But as soon as she had formulated that thought, the feeling disappeared, leaving only wind and chill in its place. Still she did not leave. She sank down to the ground, lay her hands flat against the gold plate and stared at the flowers. Her vision blurred; when she blinked, she felt wet tears fall.

A hand on her shoulder, pulling her upright. His voice again, this time much harsher.

"Stop it," he said. "Go home. Come back another day. It's too cold; you vill catch your death."

"So what?" she said, bitterly.

He almost dropped her; she felt it because her leg buckled under the sudden added weight. But his grip strengthened again.

"Vat did you say?" he asked, his accent coming on strong in his anger.

She was silent.

"You must live," he said quietly, "or he will have died for nothing. And his child must not die, either."

She gaped at him.

"Live a little vhile, Alicia Spinnet... You vill see it is sometimes vorth it."

This time, he really left.

And so did she.

Just wondering, how would you pronounce Alicia? I love it as Uh- lis-sia or Uh-lish-ia, not as fond of Uh-leesh-uh which I've never heard... and I think the first sounds better with the way it's written.

Re-read this dozens of times and ran it through spell-check twice, but between the the "vills" and the "veres" I probably missed a few things, don't hesitate to point them out.

I like this chapter, even though it's short.

But then, I probably like Fred too much.

Oh, and, next update is probably Saturday.