A/N: So here we go again... the next part... read on!

Chapter 8: The other half

At the same time as George decided to leave the house, Fred entered Ginny's bedroom, hoping to find Hermione in it. He had lost her the first time he had been running after her; the conversation that his twin had with the two girls seemed to be more interesting. He didn't know why he was so angry with his twin. He was slightly annoyed when he had heard them talk about him and Hermione yet he hadn't planned on arguing about that with his twin. But something made him do so and before he had known it he had been acting like a total –

"Idiot", he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Just forget it!"

He then turned to enter Ginny's room – only to find it empty.

A sudden movement, followed by a deafening noise from upstairs, made him jump. He turned around, looking up at where the noise had come from. He slowly began to climb up the stairs - to see the door to the attic squeaking in its frame.

He heard some rumbling from within the room where the ghoul used to hide and annoy the Weasleys time after time. Now, however, Fred almost knew for sure that the ghoul did not make this noise. He entered the attic, seeing things like old chairs, books and picture frames fly around (the people in the pictures yelled and screamed every time their painting hit the ground or another object).

Pulling out his wand to save himself from flying stuff, he walked to the middle of the room, finally discovering Hermione behind some old bookshelves, throwing all the things she could get into her hands through the room. Fred aimed at her, but before he could mutter a spell to calm her down, she was suddenly standing in front of him, making him jump.

He stared down at her with his mouth open; she, however, looked up at him highly amused.

"Hermione", he began, swallowing down any strange feeling.

"Fred", she replied in an awkward kind of voice, much too deep for a girl like her.

He frowned. "What –"

"Don't you ever mention it, Fred Weasley", she said, stepping closer to him. "I just don't want to talk about it right now…"

Her voice hurt in his head. Suddenly her hands were on his chest, sliding slowly down to his waist. He watched her with big eyes.

"Er, Hermione… what –"

"Shh!", she replied, touching his cheekbone with her index finger.

He stared at her. But before she could "seduce" him, he grabbed her hands, pulling her away from him.

"Stop it, Hermione, you're not yourself!"

She watched him, moving her lips a bit. He could only hear something like "well spotted". She then grinned in a really strange way, turning her back to him.

"What's wrong with you?", Fred finally found his own voice again. "Why are acting that strange? What happened down there? Why did you –"

"Stop asking these silly questions!", Hermione yelled, turning around again. Fred could see tears in her eyes.

"But I just want to know why –"

"I DON'T KNOW!", she yelled even louder, her lips trembling. She looked paler now, the awkward grin disappearing from her face immediately. "I don't know… I –"

She suddenly sank to her knees, falling to the dusty ground.

Fred watched her, concern rising again.

She was muttering something under her breath. He first listened more closely when he heard her call his name. He bent down to her, trying to understand what she said.

"- make me do so –", she whispered. "- can't control –", he heard her say. "- don't know …Fred … plot … help… I –"

"What? Hermione, tell me again", he said puzzled, bending nearer.

"I said HELP ME!", she almost yelled into his ear.

He jumped back to his feet at the sound of her voice, staring down at her in shock, as she looked up to him in total panic. He didn't know what to do. Before he could think about a kind of reaction, she suddenly started coughing, curling herself up on the ground. As soon as it had begun, it was over again and she lay motionless at his feet.

He knelt beside her, touching her shoulder gently.

"Hermione!"

He then heard her cry almost silently.

The fog in front of Hermione's eyes finally vanished and she realized she lay on a rather dusty ground. She couldn't remember how she got here and what had happened to her. She just felt kind of shaky. Feeling as if something let go of her body, as if something let her be herself again, she almost forgot about the fact that she was crying. Tears were streaming down her cheeks effortlessly. She turned around, lying on her back now, staring at old roof beams.

When she turned to look sideways, she saw red hair beside her.

Panting as if she had been running, she tried to sit up, still feeling rather trembling. She turned her head around to see Fred staring at her, looking pale and really shocked. She wanted to ask him what happened, but he was the first to speak.

"You're back?", he merely asked, looking at her, his eyes as dark as the room they were in.

She just stared at him for a second before something crept to her mind again.

Her own voice called through the confused mess inside her head. "HELP ME!"

She gasped, covering her face in her hands.

"What happened?", she finally managed to say.

"Weird stuff", he replied. "Don't you remember?"

She lowered her hands, looking at him.

"No… there's nothing … just…"

"Just what?"

"Just a weird feeling", she said. "Fred, what have I done?"

He sighed, rubbing his throat absentmindedly. "Forget it…"

"No, please tell me…"

And he told her.

She couldn't help but stare at him. She felt stupid again, very stupid. How could she attack Angelina Johnson? How could she actually strangle Fred? What was she thinking? She then realized that she couldn't remember anything after what had happened in the forest. She now was sure that this forest had something to do with her strange behaviour. She had to find out what it was. She –

"Oh Fred, I'm –", she began, but the words stuck inside her throat.

She watched him standing up.

"Are you… are you mad at me?"

He looked at her, his face a motionless mask. "No", he then said, turning away.

"But –"

"It's not your fault", he interrupted her.

"It's… not!", she asked puzzled.

"No", he said. "There's something going absolutely wrong here…"

She tried to stand up. "How can you tell?"

"How I can tell!", he turned to her, grinning weakly. "Just look at yourself!" Before Hermione could ask what he meant, he added: "I don't think these wounds of yours are coincidence."

She still stared at him, not understanding a word he was saying.

"You said something about a plot when you were… let's say … acting weird", he began, leaning against the closest windowsill. "But let's start at the beginning… these wounds –", he pointed at her left arm. "You would have never done that to yourself, would you? Honestly!" She watched him, confused. "You are not the type of girl hurting themselves. You have a really healthy nature, you know how to compensate aggression and fear and stress and desperation. You might hide behind your books, you might punch someone for being mean to you, you might cry, but you certainly might not hurt yourself! Whatever happened, you would have found another way of dealing with it."

And she remembered the razor blades lying on her nightstand, how they almost forced her to touch them and how they wouldn't let her stop cutting. He was right. She just wasn't the type. She didn't want to cut herself.

"But these wounds are just one piece of a much bigger puzzle", he continued. "Do you remember when they began to bleed again, when we were flying back to the Burrow? With your wounds bleeding, we had to go down – exactly in front of this dark forest. That was no coincidence. It seemed as if it was destined to happen, you know? Something – or someone – made us act like this. With you running into the forest and me following you –"

"But I can't remember running into the forest", Hermione pointed out.

"That's it! Another proof for my theory that someone is plotting something!"

"But –"

"Who? And why? Well, I didn't figure that one out yet, but we'll have to find out…"

"And what about what happened tonight?"

He turned his head to look out of the dusty window into the night. "Maybe you just… overreacted a bit", he said quietly.

"What do you mean, overreacted?"

"I mean you were still confused and terrified by what happened in the forest so everything you felt was way too intense", he said, not looking at her.

"Intense? Like… I felt something and lived it out in an exaggerated way?"

"Yeah", he replied. "Like you felt a bit …"

"What?"

"Jealous…"

"Jealous!", she repeated, feeling her cheeks burn. "What do you mean?"

"You attacked Angelina, why would you do that?"

"I … I don't know… I wouldn't attack her in the first place because I don't know her that much and –"

"Right, you guys don't hang around each other a lot. But you saw her in the Burrow and –"

"And what!"

He sighed. This was getting really nasty. "And you know that I do. I hang around her a lot, I was at the Yule Ball with her. So –"

"What! Do you really think I would be jealous because you –" Hermione stared at him. He wasn't joking. She swallowed. This was really getting nasty now. "Wait a second", she began again. "You think that I am jealous because she hangs around you a lot and that's why I attacked her in the first place!"

"Yes", he merely said.

"So why would I have attacked you then?"

"Because you were mad at me?"

"Why would I –"

"Just because."

"I wouldn't have a reason", she whispered.

"You would."

"What?"

"Well, let's shorten this a bit. After what happened in the forest and elsewhere, you thought I would be interested in you more than I used to be. Well, I helped you, so now you saw Angelina in this very house and thought I might… deceive you or something…"

Hermione stared at him.

"Are you serious!", she blurted out.

"Tell me if I'm wrong", he replied, still not looking at her.

She opened her mouth but couldn't respond.

He then pushed back from the windowsill, walking towards the door.

"Fred, wait", she said quietly. "What- whatever my reasons may be, you said there is something… someone… plotting this… so it's not entirely my fault, isn't it?"

"I never said this is your fault", he said, talking to the door.

"So… erm… Fred, listen, I am sorry whatever I've done to you, to Angelina, to George, to everyone around. I… I don't know what I'm doing… I can't remember anything and I seem to have no control about anything anymore… I'm losing it, now don't I? Maybe you are wrong and it is just me doing these things… maybe I'm turning crazy…"

Her voice echoed through the attic. Her lips were trembling and her hands were shaking badly. She stared at the back of Fred's head, feeling so stupid. He then slowly turned around to look at her.

"So if you turn crazy, why would you do that?"

"Be-because … I don't know… because maybe someone wants me to be crazy –?"

"There you have it!", he said with a soft smile. "I doubt the fact that you want to be crazy, right? Someone's making you…"

"Someone's plotting it…", she whispered, more to herself.

"And we'll find out who and why", he said, taking some steps towards her. "But not today." A yawn let his face twitch. "You'd better get some rest."

"I try", she replied, trying to smile at him, even if she didn't feel able to do so.

He nodded and turned around again.

"Fred?"

"Hm?"

"I'm really sorry for –"

He suddenly turned to put one finger on her lips. "What did I say?", he asked grinning.

She wanted to reply but he just nodded, removing his finger from her lips to touch her cheek.

"Exactly, no more apologies!"

Winking, he finally left the attic, letting her alone in the dark room. Smiling slightly.

Fred didn't feel like sleeping even if he was tired to the bone. He decided on eating something before he went to bed. Heading downstairs, he saw a long shadow dancing in the light of a candle. He slowly moved closer to its origin – to see George pacing through the kitchen.

His twin suddenly stopped and just stared at Fred.

"George", he began.

"That's my name."

"Sorry for calling you idiot, mate."

"Yeah, me too."

"Even?", Fred asked, approaching his brother slowly.

"I guess…", George said, looking down. "Sorry for yelling at you."

"Sorry for arguing at all…"

"Alright, we're even…", George said, rolling his eyes. "Before this goes on all night long…"

Fred grinned back at his twin, sitting down at the kitchen table. George did the same.

"So, do you want to tell me something?", George asked.

"What about?"

"A girl with bushy hair?"

"Don't start that now…"

"But I'm nosy."

"I know…"

"So will you tell me something about the way you feel for her?"

"Is there a way at all?", Fred asked, frowning.

"Well, me as your twin thinks there is. Remember, I feel what you feel?"

"I think that changed in the last years, didn't it?"

"Well, it's nevertheless obvious what you feel…"

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"I hate it when you're doing that!"

"I know", Fred said, laughing. "And I love it when you are annoyed of me…"

"You better hope I won't jinx you now I'm allowed to…"

"That didn't stop you the years before…"

"Oh, right, well, anyways… come on, bro, share your thoughts with your twin! I find out anyways so it's easier to just tell me, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Oh goddamnit, I'm going to bed!"

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think!
I now make a promise that I will write a chapter per day so you guys have something to read each day -gg-