It was Halloween night; the witching hour was almost upon Hogwarts; an eeriness surrounded the castle, and the good little witches and wizards were (mostly) all tucked up safely in their dorm rooms. One witch however was not in her room, instead she was tiptoeing through the castle; her fingers laced with those of an older man, a man who should not be within the castle that night. A crash of thunder sounded suddenly; echoing through the school; the girl jumped at the sound and the man chuckled, it sounded rich and warm.
"I hate storms," the girl muttered as a flash of lightening illuminated the Entrance Hall, they were in.
"Mrs Norris where are you my sweet," the grisly voice of Filch called out; he was nearby, descending the ever-changing staircase.
"Fuck," the girl whispered freezing in place, the man however did not freeze and instead tugged her quickly into the Great Hall, closing the large wooden doors silently behind them before the old caretaker could see them.
"Language Miss Granger," the boy whispered, leaning down to kiss her lips, the girl moaned, running her hands through his long hair.
"I missed you," she whispered to him; peering up at his handsome freckled face, Fred smiled at her sadly.
"I missed you too love," he breathed, his hazel eyes fixed on hers.
"Everyone misses you," she told him, her eyes watering, her lower lip quivering.
"Hey none of that, I have to go soon remember," he said, wiping her tears away with his fingers.
"It isn't fair," she said.
"No, lots of things in life aren't fair," he agreed.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too love," he said, claiming her lips with his, this time it was more heated, desperate, two lovers who knew they were almost out of time. Clothes were stripped hurriedly, their bodies moulding together as the man thrust into the woman, both moaning as they made love on Halloween night, knowing this would likely be the last time they'd be together this way.
"Never forget that I love you," the man whispered against her lips as the clock tower rang out twelve times, Midnight was upon them, and Hermione watched as the man she loved faded away to nothingness.
"Fred," she cried, staring at the spot heartbrokenly, it was like loosing him all over again. The ritual she'd performed that night helped to call a sprit from the other side, allowed them to cross the weakened Veil on Allhallows Eve. It was a ritual that would only work once, she'd brought Fred back for one final night together; three hours to be precise. They'd walked round the school talking for most of that time before making love on the floor of the Great Hall. Hermione brought her hand to her stomach, crying at the loss off her lover, if the ritual had worked as intended a piece of him would remain with her, would grow inside her, a gift from Fred, his child. Hermione hoped it had worked. If it had she'd tell her child, the story of this night; of how their father crossed through the vail and left them as a gift; of how he'd have loved them just as much as she knew he loved her. It was bittersweet, her very own ghost story. On unsteady feet she redressed before making her way silently back to the Head Girl's room, where she curled up, sobbing, the sound masked by the storm that raged on outside.
