Warning: This story talks about grief and deals with the death of a loved one.
Many thanks to CinnamonFreckle for beta-ing.
Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.
As she walked through the field behind The Burrow, the crunch of fresh snow under her boots, Hermione held her breath and did her best not to let her emotions get the best of her. She had loved Christmas with the Weasleys whenever she had been able to experience it in the past, but this year, nothing felt right. As another round of cheers and laughter had left her wanting to lash out, she had decided she needed to get away for a while.
It was cold, but the wind was gentle, lightly biting at her cheeks and nose as she walked. She had left without a clear destination in mind, but the further she got, the more she realised her feet seemed to be carrying her to exactly the place the others thought she should avoid for tonight.
They didn't understand though, if this was all she could have of him, she wanted it. She craved it. It was the only thing that would put her soul at peace for a few moments. They didn't even know the whole truth of why she came to this place; it was her little secret and she protected it with her whole heart.
She approached the headstone sitting under the big willow tree, and cleared a spot in the snow, settling herself on the ground.
As she gently traced his name in the stone slab, she willed herself to cry, seeking catharsis, but the tears had all dried up months ago, though the grief had not gone with them. She shivered in the cold as she waited.
"You should cast a warming charm before you catch your death, little witch."
She jumped at the sound of his voice; it always caught her by surprise. No matter how many times she had heard it since that terrible day, her mind still told her it shouldn't be possible.
"Fred! How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me like that!" she reproached the ghost, as he came to hover on the ground beside her.
He smiled at her sadly. "I'm sorry, love, it's a little hard to make noise in my current state. I forget sometimes…"
She felt the chill of his hand as he tried to settle it on her knee and went right through it instead. She shivered again, despite herself, and cast a warming charm.
Fred smiled broadly at her in approval. Hermione wanted, more than anything, to smile back at him and assure him that she was okay, but she wasn't. The tears she had been seeking for months began to trickle down her cheeks and she sniffed loudly, still staring at his translucent face.
"Oh love, don't cry. I can't even wipe your tears."
The guilt ate at her as she remembered the promise she had made him only a few days earlier.
"I'm sorry, I know it's Christmas and I said I wouldn't cry. But I miss you! It wasn't supposed to be like this!" She wanted to rage, to shout the injustice of the fate they'd been handed to the wind. She settled for the first, admittedly childish, sentiment that came to mind. "It's not fair!"
"Shh," he soothed, trying desperately to comfort her in the only way he could. "You already know the tears won't change anything. I'd do anything to fix it, love, but I can't. At least we have this, for now."
Slowly, she calmed herself, with the sound of his voice helping her ground herself. Using her sleeve to wipe the wetness from her face, she took a deep breath before looking up at him once more.
"Why do you only visit me? Don't you think the others would like to know you're here and speak with you as well?" She had been wondering this very thing since the first time she had seen him and he had asked her to keep the secret. While she had happily been selfish in the beginning, the guilt was starting to weigh on her.
Fred sighed.
"I wasn't going to tell any of you at first. It makes it too hard to let go and move on, in the end, you know." He shrugged sheepishly before continuing. "But you looked like you needed me. I couldn't deny you when I was alive, what makes you think anything has changed now?" He chuckled sadly.
"Everything has changed," Hermione whispered, feeling the cold creep back in over her. "My life feels like a nightmare I can never wake from!"
"Come now, love. You can't think that way. I can't let you waste your entire life sitting in a field talking to a ghost."
"What if I could bring you back?" she asked, fear making her voice so small she could scarcely hear herself. "I've been researching…"
Fred's eyes grew wide, as a horrified grimace painted his usually pleasant features.
"Whatever you think you've discovered, Hermione, I can promise you it won't have the result you're imagining it might. I don't want that for you, I don't even want that for myself! I'd honestly rather be dead than live some kind of cursed life. No matter how much I miss you."
She stared at him in dismay, tears pooling in her eyes again, and nodded.
With a relieved expression, Fred watched her for several more minutes before he spoke again. "What about the favour I asked you? Have you looked into it?" He asked cautiously.
Hermione nodded again, glumly. She had known this moment was coming and she had done her best to be prepared, though she felt she never really would be.
"I know you don't think you're ready to let me go, love, but we both know it was a mistake for me to stay. I need to move on, I want you to live again."
Taking another calming breath, she spoke matter-of-factly, ignoring his words lest they set her off again. "It's not hard. You have to want it; it's all about intent, really. You need help from...a living person, though."
Hermione studied the ghost beside her, committing the face she loved so much to memory, as she tried to find the strength she needed to give him the last gift she ever could.
She stood and walked further into the open field behind the tree, where there was no chance of being seen from the house. Using her wand she melted a small circle in the snow and then outlined a larger circle around it.
"You have to stand in the middle," she said, swallowing her emotions.
Fred brought his hand as close as he could to her face as he looked down at her. Hermione's heart broke again as she remembered he couldn't even kiss her one last time. After a moment, he drifted away into the circle before turning to face her again.
"What's the incantation?" He asked haltingly.
"There isn't one. You just say goodbye, any way you like...the magic knows when you really mean it."
Fred nodded, ruffling a translucent hand through his translucent hair.
"I know this isn't easy for you, little witch, but it means a lot to me."
Hermione nodded, at a loss for words.
"I love you," he murmured. Then he smiled and winked at her. "Mischief Managed."
And he was gone.
Hermione sent a blast of air at the snow to erase the evidence of what she had done and slowly walked back to the willow tree. She sat in the space she had carved out for herself earlier and stared at the stone in front of her with blurred vision.
After minutes that stretched on like hours, she heard the crunch of another set of approaching feet in the snow.
"Hermione."
"Hello, George."
He crept forward and reached for her hand where it lay against the stone.
"You're frozen, come back inside with me? Please." His voice held a touch of desperation that made Hermione look up at him. The vulnerability she saw on his face broke the trance of her melancholy.
"Alright, George. I'm coming," she said softly, grasping his offered hand to pull herself up.
"Don't leave me behind, okay? No one else understands like you do…" he whispered.
"I'm not going anywhere, we'll get through this," she said, as much to herself as to him.
Wrapping her arm around his waist, she pulled him close and breathed in the scent lingering on the jacket they both knew wasn't his.
George held her tightly until she warmed in his arms. But the light from The Burrow was a beacon in the distance, beckoning them forward and as more snow started falling over the fields, she slipped her hand into his and they started walking.