Forgive and Forge On

Fred ran to her the second she returned to their street. Wordlessly he threw his arms around her in a hug that spoke volumes of his desperate relief. She returned the embrace as tightly as her cold and tired arms would allow, hoping they could find the strength her voice could not.

"Fred, bring her inside! She won't be much of a girlfriend if she's an icepop!" George's voice came from the doorway of the shop. They wandered in, Fred holding her hand tightly.

Hermione was surprised to see that much of the mess was already fixed. Tonks and a few other Ministry employees were taking a statement from Verity as Fred and Hermione entered the shop. The shelves were righted, though much of the stock was gone. George called Fred over to check the inventory list before they submitted a claim for all the products beyond repair. He left her with a small smile and a squeeze of her cold hand. Another man, bedecked in boisterous robes and wearing a press badge kept flashing pictures. Hermione saw the flash of the camera illuminate an empty shelf, and it set off the last explosives that had positioned themselves around her heart.

"Get out, you leech!" The words hissed out before she could even think to stop them. "Stop building your career on the tragedy of others!"

Everyone's head swivelled in her direction, eyes wide and mouths wrapped around various vowels of surprise. She knew the man was only doing his job, and his report would probably warn others of the potential danger. She knew that the press didn't just sing the songs of tragedy. But she couldn't see anything but garrish jewel-toned robes and cat-eye glasses. They were all beetles, scavengers picking at wounds.

The man's eyes narrowed and his shoulders slumped. This was not his first time heaping blame for his job. He put his camera away and left with a curt nod of his head. His tired eyes connected with her own, so filled with anger, and then he was gone. Hermione ran up the stairs to the flat, tears streaming down her thawing face, and fear freezing her heart painfully below her ribs.

A gentle hand on her shoulder tugged Hermione from deep and fitful sleep. Still sore from crying, she sat up and found her face inches from Fred's inquisitive gaze.

"No wonder Ron's afraid you'll hex his balls off, little Lioness. You practically spark when you're upset," he teased gently.

She smiled, trying to mask the guilt that he had handed her. She placed her hand over his where it still lay against her shoulder. "I am sorry."

Fred shook his head and pulled her into his strong arms. The want to cry scratched desperately against her lungs and throat, but nothing could get past her dry eyes. She tried to stay in the moment, enjoy his warm embrace.

"Mum wants us to come back to the house," Fred whispered against her hair. "George and I, we've talked. We're going to take a break for a few weeks. Wait for new inventory, Wait for Tonks to move the investigation forward."

"A break," she repeated dully.

"A week or two. Just to rebuild." He cupped her face with both hands and pulled her up so she would look him in the eyes. "We are coming right back. We can't let the laughter die, Hermione. We can't let the smiles run and hide, afraid of the dark."

"Brave…" It was the only word she could think to say in her surprise.

"And probably idiotic," Fred added with a wide smile, "but there are things worth the risk, I reckon."

"I suppose so," she told him. The words were thick and her tongue felt like cotton and ash in her mouth. It had been a matter of course for her to waltz into danger with Harry and Ron, perhaps because each time it had seemed accidental. They had stumbled into the wrong place. At the wrong time. But now wrong seemed to dog their steps, cling to their shadows, knock at every door. Now, they walked willingly into battle. Soldiers. Dumbledore's Army, through and through. She understood that she was risking everything to stop the spread of evil, and after all she had been through, it seemed like just another day in her life. She had just never wanted to consider that anyone else would have to sacrifice toward that same end. She just wanted the people she loved to stay safe. Like her parents.

"Will you come back to the Burrow with us?"

She nodded, and together they rose to gather their things.

Molly Weasley had not even allowed them to recover from the eerie sensation of slipping through the air from one place to another before she had pulled all three of them into a bone crunching hug. Fred could feel his mother's tears on his arm, and George was sure the whole neighborhood could hear her carrying on.

"Always good to know the death we should really fear-" George began.

"Is punctured lungs and suffocation," Fred finished with a struggle.

Molly sniffed in disapproval, but her arms did loosen ever so slightly.

Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway with a clatter. They made eye contact with Hermione, and wordlessly they came forward to surround her in crushing brotherly love. Ron broke this contact for only a moment to seize Fred's arm.

"Sorry, brother," He said, his face sincere and his voice quiet.

"Forgiven. Forgotten." Fred nodded.

The warmth of the crooked Burrow welcomed them.