The morning's exchange with Malfoy lingered in Hermione's mind long after she settled her affairs at the store. It nagged at the corners of her mind, even while Amanda assured her boss that Book Nook was in capable hands and she needn't worry about a thing.

"You just worry about finishing your education, dear," Amanda had insisted in a soothing tone. "When you come back, everything will be just as you left it. I will owl you the weekly inventory reports and the Gringotts statements, but I need you to promise me one thing."

Hermione's internal babble had some to a screeching halt as her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Promise me that you will look after yourself for a change. Take some time to actually be young before you wake up one day and realize that your entire life flew by without you."

There was something in Amanda's expression that told the younger witch she was speaking from experience. It gave her a sense of pause. Studious brown eyes took in each and every one of the photographs that hung on faded maroon walls. Some moved, and others didn't, yet each one reminded her of times long past.

Hermione cherished the moving depictions of her and the boys with wide, genuine smiles. Her heartstrings tugged at the sight of life and happiness that had been impossible to contain. She loved the still pictures that captured her with her parents in different parts of the world. They had been to France, Italy, Germany... and there had even been that one time they visited America. However, her favorite times with her family had all been right here in England. The desk drawer containing an old sketchbook along secret photos of them at art studios and museums called out to her like a siren.

Hermione reached across the meager secondhand desk and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Deal. Thank you."

"HERMIONE!"

The witch's gaze finally snapped back toward the disgruntled redhead beside her. With Ginny's lips pursed in disapproval and her hands on her hips, Hermione wondered how much trouble she had managed to get herself into. "Where is your head at? I've been asking you if you needed anything from the Apothecary for the last five minutes!" Hermione sighed, shaking her head. Part of her foolishly hoped that if she shook her head enough, she could shake away thoughts of women who knew too much and blondes who took her off guard.

Of course, that would be the moment that she caught a glimpse of a white-blonde blur heading into the exact potions supply shop Ginny had just mentioned. No way. This couldn't be happening. The Ministry was honestly allowing Malfoy to go back to Hogwarts this year? Could he not just take his N.E.W.T.s at the Manor or something? She felt her stomach drop and completely leave her body altogether. Someone just kill me now, she thought. "Did you see that?" Hermione blurted before she could stop herself.

Ginny quickly glanced back towards the shop and then back to her friend. Understanding finally dawned on her. "This is about the ferret, isn't it?" Unable to look Ginny in the eye and admit that the thought of being anywhere near Draco Malfoy made every single one of her nerves stand on end, she glanced down at the ground. If there was one thing Hermione hated above all else, it was feeling weak. She had fought in a bloody war, for Merlin's sake! Why should the sight of one bloody boy make her mind want to spiral? Yet... the sight of him did. It sent her back to the trial. Back to the Manor. Back under Bellatrix's cursed blade. Back to poor Dobby, who sacrificed himself to save them all.

Though she was genuinely glad to see him in good health, the Malfoy heir was a walking reminder of her torment.

"Hey," Ginny said softly. "We'll just come back later. Alright?" Shame immediately hit Hermione like a bludger. She should be stronger. She should be able to handle going into a sodding apothecary with her head held high. Right? "No," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Let's go in there. I actually do need..."

Ginny stepped in front of Hermione as soon as she took the first step. "Hermione Jean." When she pointed back in the opposite direction, she spoke with firm authority laced in her tone that was impossible to ignore. "Turn around. We'll go to the joke shop for now. Ron said he was over there helping George, anyway." Hermione couldn't get a word in as Ginny grabbed her shoulders, physically turned her around, and started pushing her down the crowded street. "This is actually perfect," Ginny said thoughtfully. "It's past time the two of you actually talked." Hermione turned her head, ready to argue the point, but Ginny's narrowed eyes stopped her. "I mean more than one or two words here and there, and you know it."

"Ginny...!" Hermione squealed as her friend continued to force her down the street, nearly knocking a couple over in the process. The fiery redhead merely huffed. "What? My brother has been a sodding idiot for shutting you out, and you have been too nice to push him to talk." By the time the women made it to the front doors of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Ginny was still huffing while Hermione could only stare up at the giant, lit up replica of the twin's faces.

All thoughts of Ron and the shaky state of their relationship flew from both women's minds as a somber silence settled between them. "Do you think he is still here, watching over us, Ginny?" Hermione whispered. The warm lights danced across their faces; a beacon, in a sense, even as loss threatened to shred them to pieces. Their arms automatically linked together in another unspoken promise, much like the one Hermione made to Fred at his graveside. "I think so," Ginny whispered back. "I can't see Fred ever leaving George. Not even in death." Silent tears spilled from their eyes, marking their own paths down their cheeks. "That's a nice thought," Hermione muttered around the massive lump that formed in her throat.

Out of all the funerals Hermione attended last year, Fred's was probably the most difficult. Though burying so many people she had cared about was hard, it was Fred. He had been such a brilliant light in the blackest darkness; one of those people that you simply expected to stick around forever. It was Fred and George, the dynamic duo, the seemingly untouchable pair. It rocked her to the core and shook her perception of the world altogether.

Fred never did send Ginny a Hogwarts toilet seat.

As it turned out, he had not only outgrown a full-time education, but he outgrew the world.

Fate was far too cruel.

"The problem is all in how you look at things, Hermione," Fred once told her back at the Burrow.

In the early hours of the morning, before the rest of the Weasley household stirred, the boy who made everyone around him laugh would find Hermione curled up on the old, worn sofa of his parent's living room. The first time he plopped down beside her and draped his arm across the back, Hermione didn't know what to make of it. It certainly wasn't normal behavior for them; they weren't even that close. Acquaintances at best, brought together by hers and Harry's friendship with his younger brother.

She wasn't sure how or when it became tradition for the two of them to meet up for daily talks, but it had been something she treasured. Neither of them ever mentioned it to anyone else. As a matter of fact, once the house began to stir, they went on about their normal routines. Their morning whispers were something just for the two of them.

"What do you mean?" Hermione had asked, peering at him over her coffee mug with a smile. The brew was one more thing that would always remind her of him.

"You look at the world as though it's a textbook," Fred declared, much to Hermione's horror. "If you spend your whole life doing what everyone expects of you, when will you ever have any fun?" She stared, openly gaping at the boy across from her as though he had grown two extra heads. He burst into a fit of laughter that shook his entire body, lighting him up from within in the most exceptional way. Somehow, he managed to say in between breaths while clutching his sides, "Someday, Hermione, you're going to find that some things are worth taking a risk!"

Those words stuck with her above every other piece of advice she had ever been given. So, on the day Hermione had to say goodbye to her dear friend for the last time, she whispered a promise to his headstone.

"Our talks every morning and growing closer to you was worth the risk. I'd do it all over again if I could. In a heartbeat. Someday... Someday, I promise you I will find something worth taking chances like that for again. You showed me that the world is not so black-and-white, and I swear I'll stop looking at things that way, just for you, Fred. You were right about everything. You always were."

Behind a large oak tree, far away from everyone who was gathered there, Draco Malfoy stood alone. Hermione was no fool. She had spotted him ages ago. She felt the eyes that watched them all. For a brief moment, they shared a look of somber understanding before she turned back to watch them lower Fred into the ground. At that point in time, she thought it best to just leave him be. With the burn of a lifelong promise on her lips, she turned back once more to see Malfoy still rigidly standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. He wore no outward emotion on his face. Rather, he reminded her of a statue: silent, solidly still, and colder than stone. Something inside her told her to leave it alone, so she did something no one expected: she gave him a brief nod and walked away.

She left the secret of Draco Malfoy's silent appearance at the cemetery. To her, it was one small step towards looking at the world in color. Maybe, in time, she would even be able to see the shades of grey.

A year later, and it all still burned like it was only yesterday. Hermione was still searching for those shades of grey in the world and no closer to finding something worth taking a risk for. That is, unless one counted the shop. Did it really count, though, when the person who opened it happens to be the one person most expected to be surrounded by books?

The doors to a joke shop had no business looking so daunting.

Fred's words cut through her mind again. Some things are worth taking a risk. Was her kind-of-sort-of relationship with Ronald worth taking a risk? She squared her shoulders. Of course it was. It had to be. Right?

Though they had only shared one kiss and hardly saw each other, it all had to be worth it in the end. It had to be. Wasn't this what they had been fighting for this entire time? Ronald was grieving, just like they all were. Pulling away was simply his way of doing it. There was no shame in that. Grief had no timeline.

She could be understanding of that. She only needed to talk to him. She needed to get him to open up and lean on her. They could work through this. Their stolen hugs, cuddles and light pecks to each other's cheeks were proof of that.

Right?

Then why was it that all the wind was knocked out of her when none other than Ronald Weasley stumbled out of the shop doors with a broad smile stretched across his face? Oh. Right. It was a look she hadn't seen since before the war.

What stung even worse was the way his smile slipped off the moment his beautiful blue eyes locked onto hers. The way mud slides right off your shoes when you spray them with a water hose...

Internally, she flinched. This was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

"'Mione?" Ron mumbled, dumbfounded. "...and Ginny? What are you two doing here?"

Ginny instantly bristled, leaving Hermione to rush through the next sentence before the younger witch could hex her brother. "We need to talk to talk, Ronald. Unless you're expecting someone?" She looked around them, not seeing anyone, but feeling a deep-seated need to make sure. Neither witch missed the guilty look on Ron's face, but regardless, he held the door open for them. "No, Hermione. Come in. There's an empty room in the back we can use if you want." The brunette witch shook her head. "Ginny, why don't you go ahead and go in? I have a feeling we'll be quick." Ginny did, in fact, go in, eyeing her friend as she went.

Ron sighed. "I'm not sure out here in the open like this is the best idea. It's a bit public, you know?" Hermione nodded in agreement. "You're right. Let's..."

There was something about the wide, blissful smile that spread across his face that accompanied his eyes going round that stopped her in her tracks. "Blimey! Did you just say I was right about something?" Hermione snickered, feeling the first bits of warmth in her heart. "It's not that surprising. You are capable of being brilliant, you know."

Soon, too soon, their joined laughter died down. As their chuckles shifted into hums, their expressions turned into twin looks of uncomfortable guilt. Hermione always thought that when they finally came to this moment, it would be drastically different. That she would feel differently about it all. Now, though, staring up into those gorgeous blue eyes she always thought she would wake up to forever... seeing the adorable freckles that scattered across his face like the stars... she finally knew (and accepted) the truth. This boy was simply her best friend. He always had been and always would be. She didn't begrudge him for taking the time he needed. Not at all. As a matter of fact, she thought it was the most mature thing he had ever done in his life.

It was just clearer than ever that, at least for now, their paths didn't lead in the same direction. "Thanks, Hermione," Ron breathed.

The pair stood there like that for quite some time, with Hermione's arms crossed over her chest and Ron's arms swinging at his sides, neither able to quite look at the other. Finally, Hermione shakily broke the ice. "How are you, really?"

Ron's sigh told her that this conversation was about to come to an abrupt end. Simultaneously, the Gryffindor pair blurted:

"Hermione-"

"Ronald-"

They both nervously chuckled once more. Ron ran his hand through his hair, longing to look anywhere but at the witch in front of him. "Go ahead, Ron," Hermione said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Finally, his eyes came back to hers. "Thanks," he said, his own sad smile matching her own. He took another deep breath and took one of her hands in his. "Hermione, do you ever feel like... like..."

"Like things just aren't the way they're supposed to be? Like maybe you should be doing something different?" She finished for him.

The palpable relief on Ron's made lifted a ten-ton weight off her chest. He definitely felt the same. Maybe they could hold on to their friendship, after all. "Exactly. I don't know how to explain it. It's just after Fred..."

They both let his fallen brother's name linger in the air. Both as a sign and an explanation. She nodded, understanding his meaning completely. "You want to take some time to figure out who you are." He nodded back at her, guilt beginning to etch itself back onto his beloved face. She reached out, tentatively, trying to smooth it away. "Don't," she said firmly. "Don't do that to yourself. The truth is, with you going off to Auror training and me back to school... I think some time to sort ourselves out is the best gift we can give each other right now."

Hermione felt herself soften without her permission. "It's called grieving and self-care, Ron. Never apologize for either one." The witch wound her arm around her friend's waist and pulled him with her into a steady stroll down the street. Ron was admittedly a little stiff at first, but after a few steps, he melted with a comfortable sigh and threw his arm around his best friend's shoulders.

"You are the best friend anyone could ask for. You know that don't you?"

"Make sure you remember that when I'm not there to do your homework for you," Hermione said through a watery smile. Ron scoffed, leaving the pair to lose themselves in nearly a decade of memories. Leaning her head against his shoulder, the witch said softly, "Someone once told me that some things in life are worth taking a risk. If anything fits the bill, I'd say that this is it." Ron glanced down at her with shining eyes of his own. "Oh yeah? Who said that?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "Fred."

His arm tightened around her shoulders, and he simply said in a tone that bordered on light, "I guess we need to listen to that great git, huh?" Hermione nodded. "You'll write me this year, won't you?" With his hands gently rubbing her shoulder, he murmured, "You're my best friend. Of course I will." Hermione leaned her head against Ron's chest as best she could as they walked down the busy street of Diagon Alley. She supposed that maybe things were always supposed to be this way between the two of them. She couldn't remember a time when things had ever felt so calm between them. "Thank you, Ron. Truly."

Maybe there really was something to be said for taking a risk or two.