Sixth Year

~o0o~

Hermione had closed her eyes when diving into the Pensieve, therefore only feeling—but missed seeing—the first memory take shape from the dark mist swirling around in the water. Her eyes remained firmly shut, even as sounds of people laughing and tiny explosions filled her ears. She didn't dare open them. She couldn't. It would all be over soon. She was going to make it be over and she didn't want it to be.

But then she heard him.

"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free."

She gaped and gasped as her eyes flew open, immediately taking him in. He was beaming, his smile wide and radiant as the sun, and it hurt for all the right reasons. He was beautiful.

"How are you, Harry?" Fred adjusted his magenta coloured robes, like the business man he was, and shook hands with Harry. He then turned back to memory Hermione and one his eyebrows rose. "And what's happened to your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope," she answered, ruefully.

"Oh, blimey, I forgot about those," he said. "Here—" He handed her younger self a tub of the thick yellow paste she remembered having had to put on her eye. Memory Hermione was observing the paste as Fred told her the instructions on how to use it. "We had to find a decent bruise-remover, we're testing most of our products on ourselves."

The way Hermione now noticed how Fred was acting around her; from the beaming at her praise of their 'Daydream Charms' to him telling her that he and George tested most of their products on themselves—most likely to assure her that they were through testing on first years, or perhaps as a joke even to remark on their disagreement the year before—it all made her, once again, wonder how she had been so blind. Harry, she understood. Even standing next to them right now he appeared to see nothing amiss. But how could she not notice the small looks Fred gave her when he thought she wasn't looking? How he tried to take his eyes off of her . . .

"It is safe, isn't it?" her younger self asked nervously.

Fred shook himself out of it one last time and replied, bracingly, 'Course it is." He placed a hand on Harry's arm, beginning to steer him away, "Come on, Harry, I'll give you a tour."

He led Harry away towards the corner with Muggle magic tricks (something Hermione thought odd that he was sharing only with Harry, seeing as Hermione was Muggleborn . . .) while Memory 'Mione struggled with dabbing paste onto her eye. It wouldn't be until a minute later that Ginny would appear and take pity on her and help, leaving them to explore the 'Daydream Charms' a bit more.

George joined Harry and Fred and the memory changed . . .

Fred and George were in what Hermione presumed was the back of the shop and it appeared to be night time. The store was quiet and the silence was near deafening compared to the commotion previously shown. George sank down into his chair, while Fred was already seated and in the middle of poring over some scrolls of parchment on his desk.

"That was exhausting," said George, sighing in relief and closing his eyes while his head fell back.

"It was quite a day," agreed Fred, scratching something out with his quill.

"D'you know why I thought it was so exhausting, though?"

"I don't, but from your tone I gather that I'd rather not know."

"Well," George continued, as if Fred hadn't spoken, "if you really want to know—it was exhausting because I had to chase after you all day." He straightened and looked at his twin. "You told me not to leave you alone with her and so I didn't. I mean, I came a little late the first time but I tried my best."

"As much as I appreciate it, we were never alone. Either Ginny or Harry was there."

"You were making pining eyes, brother."

Fred put down his quill, frowning. "I'm trying," he said. Then he sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I've been trying all summer. But then she was there, George. And she was even complimenting us, saying our magic was 'extraordinary', and I—" Fred stopped himself and took a moment to consider what to say next. His silence lingered for a while longer than either Hermione or George were used to when it came to him, and it was just as George opened his mouth to ask what was wrong that Fred's frown gradually disappeared and was replaced by a look of acceptance. And then a smile.

Fred turned to his brother and looked ever the Gryffindor as held that smile in place and said, "It's obvious now that she'll always have a place in my heart and I think I'll just have to deal with that fact."

"But?" George prompted, relieved to have his brother talk again.

"But, just because she has an effect on me, doesn't mean I have to let it mean anything anymore. Our story, however one-sided, is done. It's been done for a long time." He sighed again and his next words made Hermione's breath catch. "I want to move on."

George's eyes filled with emotion and when he spoke it was barely louder than a whisper, "I do so admire you, big bro'."

The memory dissolved and took a new shape. This time it wasn't at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes but in a hospital room, and judging by the moving portraits on walls, Hermione deduced they were at St Mungo's. She turned to where Fred sat, hunched over on a chair and holding an unconscious Katie's hand. Hermione felt her own hands clench at the sight, her nails digging into her palm a little too much. But she couldn't help it, not with what Fred had said just a second ago . . .

"The Healers said she'd be fine," George assured him. He was standing by the edge of the bed, looking equally concerned, no matter what he said. "Katie's parents seemed to take their word for it, at least."

"When do you reckon they'll be back?" Fred asked. "I hate to say it, but Verity can only handle so much in our absence. Perhaps we should just tell her to close for the day?"

"Not the worst idea," hummed George. "I don't know if I could take smiling all day when having seen her like this—"

"I came as soon as I heard," a voice called from the entrance of the room.

Fred lifted his head, but George froze in place. Angelina didn't seem to notice. With hurried steps and white Healer robes billowing around her, she gave off the impression of an angel approaching to heal the sick. Hermione watched as the other girl leaned down to press her palm against Katie's forehead.

"Must have been some curse," Angelina said, her words promising vengeance on whoever had been responsible for her friend's condition. "She's ice cold."

"It's good to see you, Ange," said Fred. "Alicia with you? We're waiting for Wood and Lee at the moment, but we didn't know—"

"Alicia is out of the country at the moment studying some rare creatures, but she told me she'd be back by the end of the month." Angelina's lips set in a grim line. "Hopefully, Katie will be out by then."

"They let you wear Healer robes already?" George asked suddenly, speaking for the first time since Angelina had entered.

The girl arched an eyebrow his way, but didn't look him directly in the eyes. "I was assisting a charm gone wrong and it ruined my apprentice robe, burned it. My mentor let me borrow his."

The 'his' appeared to bother George as his face set in a near sneer at the word. But he restrained himself from letting it go on too long. "They . . . suit you."

Angelina squared her shoulders and looked to Katie again. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, as silence brewed more tension, Fred's gaze shifted back and forth between his brother and friend. He didn't like what he saw, but he also thought better than to address the issue; whatever had happened to George and Angelina wasn't going to fix itself until they themselves were willing to fix it. Hermione reminded herself that despite the scene she was now witness to, they did get together in the end. And from what she'd seen, they were happy. Well, except for one big thing, of course . . .

"I'm going to see if Lee's on his way," said George, already out of the door by the time his words registered with the other two conscious people.

"You know—" Fred started, but Angelina quickly interrupted him.

"I'll just see with my mentor if he's all right with me staying here, or if he needs me for something." Her face softened as she looked at Fred, and then Katie. "It was nice seeing you, Fred. Look after her for me if I don't come back today, okay? And make sure the boys don't get too loud in here. It's a hospital after all."

Fred shook his head exasperatedly when she left. "What am I to do with those two, eh, Katie?" He took her hand in both of his, and chuckled. "At least I'm not suffering in that way anymore. Did I tell you, Kates? I'm a free man, out on the prowl. No longer in danger of the Granger." His smile faded and his expression shifted into a pained one. "If you'd been awake you'd tell all of us to get our heads out of our arses. Wake up soon, will you?"

The memory changed.

Fred held the letter in his hand in disbelief. His eyes moved along the page and read what was written, over and over again. Hermione glanced at it and saw that it was from her. Understanding dawned and she waited for Fred's response. To her disappointment, he merely sat it aside in the end.

"Well?" George asked from his desk. "What propelled Prefect Granger to put quill to paper this time?"

"Believe it or not, to scold us." Fred chuckled. "Apparently, she disapproves of our love potions, she's afraid girls will try to use them against Harry."

"Ah, The Boy Who Lived at it again with his charms and non-existent knowhow when it comes to women. Granger is right to be concerned."

"Yeah, but we can't stop shipping them to those girls, largely because we have no way of knowing who they are."

George grinned. "Hermione didn't provide a list I take it? Shame."

"Mhm," said Fred, eyeing the parchment again. "No mention of being concerned about Ron, though. They really must be on the outs."

"Can you blame her, Freddie? Bloke's given her one impression, only to snog another girl right in front of her face in the common room. And to think we were worried about Ginny at the start of this year."

"'Course, but with Ginny there was more to it. I've never been able to shake the fear of her getting snared in by pretty words like she did with Riddle."

"Hey," said George, matching his twin's serious expression. "We both were worried about her, but Dean's a good kid, we've known him for years. He wouldn't take advantage of her. Besides, there's only one evil like Voldy, and I doubt he's after our sister right now."

Fred shrugged. When he didn't say anything else, Hermione noticed he was looking at the letter in his hand again, his gaze soft and ghost of a smile on his lips. He was tracing her writing with his eyes. It made her blush for some strange reason.

The scene switched . . .

The next memory was set in the Burrow, the kitchen to be more exact. Ron and Harry were peeling Mountain Sprouts and talking about the time Fred and George tried to make Ron take an Unbreakable Vow when they were little. Hermione grimaced and fought to remember that they'd most likely not known what they were doing to their little brother as they'd been small themselves. Or so she hoped, at least.

" . . .only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum. Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since."

Harry made a face (as did Hermione, but a slightly different—more embarrassed— one). "Yeah, well passing over Fred's left buttock—"

"I beg your pardon?" said Fred's voice as the twins entered the kitchen. "Ah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless them."

Hermione watched as the sibling bickered and teased regarding Ron's inability to use magic while underage and was somewhat horrified at the sight of George making Ron cut his own thumb. Nevertheless, she waited to see what this memory was for as it still wasn't clear, unlike the other ones which had demonstrated quite strongly Fred's urge to move on. While she knew logically that it was nothing to be upset about (because even ignoring the fact that she inadvertently caused him anguish, wasn't that exactly was she was doing now?) a part of her needed to know if these memories had stayed with him until the very end, or—she felt her stomach churn at the thought—perhaps these memories were extracted memories. Memories Fred had deemed too painful to live with.

The fear had been in the back of her mind for some time. As the vials displayed more and more of Fred's unrequited feelings and his struggle to keep them that way for the sake of his brother, the more Hermione had feared the possibility that these memories were here for other reasons than fond nostalgia. That Fred hadn't wanted to share his childhood crush with her, but that the memories were placed here to be forgotten.

Which would mean the last time she saw him, he had most likely not remembered how he'd felt about her, and somehow that possibility made Hermione want to fall apart all over again.

But she had promised herself not to cry anymore. She was going to go through all of the memories and then she could cry.

Hermione returned her attention to the boys.

"You wait," said Ron angrily, sucking his thumb as it bled, "when I'm seventeen—"

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills," yawned Fred.

"And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald," said George, ignoring a sudden reproachful look from Fred who looked like he knew where his twin was going with this, "what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called—unless our information is faulty—Lavender Brown?"

While Ron turned a little pink, Hermione found herself yet again oddly unaffected by the mention of Lavender. The girl she'd been so annoyed with growing up, someone who Hermione had thought had stolen a boy that was hers, was now instead someone Hermione only thought back on with sadness.

Ron went back to his sprouts, but did not look entirely displeased as he told the twins to mind their own business.

"What a snappy retort," said Fred. "I really don't know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was . . .how did it happen?"

"What d'you mean?" asked Ron, the sprouts forgotten once more.

"Did she have an accident or something?"

"What?"

"Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful now!"

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprouts knife at Fred, who turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy flick of his wand.

"Ron!" their mother said furiously. "Don't you ever let me see you throwing knives again!"

Ron only muttered something in reply and Mrs. Weasley told the twins about the sleeping situation over the holidays as more siblings would trickle in, as well as Fleur.

"—everyone should be comfortable. Well, they'll have a bed, anyway," said Mrs. Weasley, the stress of arranging such things seeping through in her voice.

"Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?" asked Fred, seemingly ignoring his mother's already distraught tone. But there was genuine curiosity there.

Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. "No, he's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or he's the world's biggest prat," said Fred, dismissively, as his mother left the kitchen, his curiosity from before evaporating. "One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, George."

"What are you up to?" asked Ron. "Can't you help us with these sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free, too!"

"No, I don't think we can do that," said Fred seriously. "It's very character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs—"

"—and if you want people to help you, Ron," added George, throwing the paper airplane at him, "I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a little hint." We're off to the village, there's a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous . . .almost like real magic . . ."

Then, Fred and George chuckled their way out the door, walking across the snowy yard of the Burrow and onto the road, Hermione following behind them.

"So," Fred started, putting his hands in the pockets of his robes, "definitely over between you and Ange, is it?"

"For something to be over, it would first need to have started, wouldn't it?" At Fred's pointed gaze, George rolled his eyes and shrugged, "I dunno, but I think so. It never was the same after we were thrown out of the team by Umbridge. And while she knew it wasn't entirely our doing, Angelina, she . . . you know she blames me for losing my temper like that. She was counting on me and I let her down. And it didn't help that we never went anywhere, we were always at this sort of standstill, and you can't blame her for growing tired of it . . ." George sighed. "I'm trying to follow your example. You seem more at ease nowadays. Though I apologise for asking Ron about Lavender."

"I am more at ease, thank you," Fred smiled. "And while it was exactly the thing I asked you not to do, I can't blame you for being curious. I was too. D'you reckon he likes her much?"

George made a face in mock-consideration. "Well, considering he threw a knife at you, I'd say he likes her okay. Hey, you don't think you should . . .?"

"I was thinking about it. Ron made his choice, right? I gave him time and he chose Lavender." Fred chuckled. "Although, who knows if they'll last the week? They're teenagers, after all."

The memory changed and shaped itself anew, and Hermione's mind was boggled. Was Fred insinuating that he had planned on acting on his feelings for her? This contradicted everything else she'd seen so far! He had just been trying to move on and now he . . .That's when Hermione remembered Fred's words from before. Yes, Lavender and Ron hadn't broken up a week after Christmas, but it hadn't been too long after that they did. Which meant that Fred most likely never had the chance to say anything before her and Ron were back to their usual selves.

Around her the mist had set and she noticed she and the twins were in Hogsmeade, in front of a joke shop.

"Yeah, this could be incredible," said Fred, stepping back a bit, observing Zonko's in its entirety, including the large 'for sale' sign hanging down the front. "It would be the perfect place actually to expand WWW. All those Hogsmeade weekends."

George nodded, looking equally exhilarated. "And it would only be right to pay Zonko's back for inspiring us. Though, he might be regretting that now . . . Poor bloke, we never meant to be that hard of a competition."

The two of them walked along the lamplit streets, George carrying a large wrapped gift, which Hermione immediately knew was for Ron. That meant it was Ron's birthday . . . Dread filled her knowing what Fred would come to hear. That Ron had been poisoned.

Sure enough, a moment later there was an owl flying towards them from the castle, and Fred retrieved a note from it.

"It's from Ginny. It says Ron's in the Hospital Wing and that we should come quick."

Fred and George apparated to the gates, and after going through a rather torturous dialogue with Filch—who didn't believe them when they said they were only back to see their brother and nothing else—McGonagall arrived.

"For goodness' sake, Argus, their brother has been injured! Show some sympathy!"

Filch only sent a glare after them, promising pain if they stepped out of line.

"Always knew you had a soft spot for us, Minnie," said Fred. When she only sent him an arched eyebrow, he held his hands up. "All right, Professor it is. Though we technically already are out of school . . ."

"You didn't graduate," said Professor McGonagall, though amusement coated her lips. "If we're to focus on technicalities."

The twins grinned.

She led them swiftly to the outside of the Hospital Wing. "Your brother has just been allowed visitors so it would be best to keep any racket to a minimum. Understood?"

The twins nodded and their former Head of House strode away, but not before surprising them with a 'it's good to see you again'.

"This day has been topsy-turvy," said George, the corner of his lip pulling up. "Ready?"

They entered.

Ginny immediately scrambled out of her chair to hug them both. Harry and Hermione remained in their seats surrounding Ron's bed, which was the only occupied one in the room.

"Gin, what happened?" asked George as she sat down again and they followed her to stand by the bed. "In your letter you only said he'd been injured. How?"

"He was poisoned," Ginny answered shakily.

"Poisoned?" George repeated.

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" said Fred, attempting to lighten the mood. But no one laughed, and even Fred himself couldn't muster a smile.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George grimly, putting it down on Ron's bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," said Fred, joke number two striking out like the first one had. He didn't seem to care though. The only thing he had eyes for was his youngest brother, and Hermione couldn't blame him. The whole experience had been jarring.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him—" said George.

"You were in Hogsmeade?" asked Ginny, looking up.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," said Fred gloomily. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat load of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff any more . . . but never mind that now."

He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron's pale face again. "How exactly did it happen, Harry?"

Then, Harry went into explaining how he and Ron been in Slughorn's office, how Harry had asked him to help Ron recover from a love potion smuggled in by Romilda Vane (Fred and George exchanged a grim look at that) and how the toast to celebrate the fact had led to Ron's poisoning.

". . .and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so . . .keep taking Essence of Rue . . ."

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry, his shoulders hunching up and his fingers fiddling with dread at what could have happened.

Fred looked more or less the same, until a sniff caught his attention. For the first time he'd noticed memory Hermione's presence, overwhelmed as he must have been by the events surrounding his brother's hospitalization. He looked her way and then he looked to Ron, his eyelids halfway closed, heavy in contemplation.

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred eventually asked Ginny.

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago—they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon . . ."

There was a pause as Ron mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred quietly, not wanting to wake his brother up from a well-deserved rest.

"Yes," said Harry at once, looking eager to discuss the matter again; to get closer to the answer. "Slughorn poured it out—"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably," said Harry, "but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?"

They discussed the matter of Slughorn possibly being out to poison to Ron, or whether or not the old Professor could have been after Harry the whole time, until they finally landed on the possibility of someone being out to poison Slughorn himself.

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said Harry. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And . . .and maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas, Ginny reminded him. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione, speaking for the first time in what real Hermione knew had been hours. The result was a voice that sounded like she had a bad head-cold. Fred grew a concerned look at the sound of it, but there was relief there at the fact that she was coming out of her shell and speaking. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

Barely a second after she'd spoken the last word, was there a croak from Ron's bed.

"Er—my—nee," he said, making everyone in the room still and wait for him to wake up. Which he didn't. A moment later he was muttering incomprehensibly before starting to snore.

Memory Hermione's eyes were wide as she stared at his face, while the others kept quiet, George and Ginny exchanging concerned looks, while Fred wasn't doing much of anything except sit and stare at the foot of Ron's bed.

Then, they all jumped out of the increased tension as Hagrid stormed in, telling them he just heard about Ron. After being reminded by Madam Pomfrey of the limit of visitors allowed in the wing, who then attempted to cover her confusion of mistaking him for two people by vanishing his mud tracks on the floor, he shook his head while staring in shock at the resting Ron.

"I don't believe this," he said. "Jus' don' believe it . . .look at him lyin' there . . .who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"

"That's just what we were discussing," said Harry. "We don't know."

Hagrid then asked if it could have been someone after the Quidditch team, bringing up Katie's attack, but George answered that he didn't think that was the case.

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," he said.

"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could have got away with it," said Fred fairly.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but there's I think there's a connection between the attacks," said Hermione quietly.

"How d'you reckon that?" asked Fred, leaning forward in his seat and granting her his full attention to encourage her to speak more.

"Well, for one thing," she said, her voice growing a bit stronger, but still possessing a lot of the same hollow tone from before, "they ought to have been fatal and weren't, although it was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

During the entirety of Hermione's monologue, Fred had watched her, taking in her explanation, trying to get with the information and speculation she was providing, but while all of this had been happening there had also been time for admiration to fill his eyes. And while he had busied himself with watching her, real Hermione had been watching him. Wondering how she never could have seen this amazing man, who even in the light of such a tragic event befalling his brother, he managed to find it within himself to distract a girl who was shaken by it too, but who hadn't seemed to cope quite well. Someone so incredible had been in front of her this whole time, and she hadn't even bothered to look up to meet his eyes as she spoke to him.

The scene changed . . .

She transported into an unfamiliar bedroom. It was small, but there were banners donning the walls, and a mountain of sweets and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products lying at the foot of the bed. Katie Bell sat propped up by pillows against the headboard.

"Thanks, Ange, but you really needn't—fine, just get on with it," Katie said, allowing her friend to fluff the pillows behind her back.

"Just making you comfortable, love," said Angelina, smiling gently.

"Better just do what she says, Katie. After all, you coming back isn't about your recovery but actually Angelina's need to feel useful," said George.

There was a moment of silence, all but for Angelina's increased force behind the fluffing of the pillows, until Lee stepped in and made a joke about him wanting to feel useful too.

"Perhaps I could dedicate a song to you on my radio," he winked at Katie. "Well, whenever we can get it running again."

"The thing was ancient even before you showed it to us," said George, rolling his eyes.

As he and Lee bickered, and Alicia and Oliver stayed out of it, with Alicia asking Oliver about his season, Katie sent Fred a look. He responded with a tired shrug and she nodded, looking equally tired. Meanwhile, Angelina said nothing.

"Ange, I think I'm good, yeah?" Katie said after a while, laying a hand on top of Angelina's. "Thank you."

Angelina swallowed. "You're welcome. Hey, should we go get you the rest of your presents?"

Katie's eyes bulged. "There's more?"

"'Course!" said Lee. "You couldn't possibly have thought this was it?"

"We didn't want to overwhelm you, just be glad the twins were persuaded against a welcome back firework show," said Alicia, shaking her head.

When they all made to go downstairs, Katie held her hand out, "Fred, would you mind waiting here with me?"

Fred closed the door after the others and sat down on a chair next to the bed. "What's up?"

Katie's expression turned serious. "You tell me. Have they honestly not sorted this ridiculous row they're having? It's been ages!"

Fred chuckled. "Believe me, I'm aware."

"So?" Katie pushed on. "Isn't it about time we forced them to sort it out?"

Fred's face lost all humour, his eyes turning dark. "Unless you'd like one of them to not come out alive, then no. They're not going to listen to us."

The girl sighed. "I suppose you're right. It just kills me to see two people that could be so great together, be so stubborn and childish."

Fred nodded and fiddled with the ribbon of one of the wrapped boxes he'd brought, listening to his friend.

Katie leaned back, having taken the box and worked on unwrapping it. "What's going on with you, then? Anything interesting? Love life wise?"

"That all you're interested in, then?"

"Not really, I've just been in a coma for a while. The gossip is nice and light. Besides, Leanne never has anything to share in that department, which is strange because she's a nice enough girl, you know?" She shook her head. "Never mind, I'm drifting off topic. Well?"

Fred chuckled softly, then straightened up against the back of his chair with his hands clasped in his lap. "You know me; no one can resist my charm."

"How good for you," Katie responded wryly, examining the 'fainting fancies' in her hands. She lifted the box and held it visible for Fred to see. "Really? I just woke up."

Fred grinned. "And as soon as you're back in school you'll realise the big mistake you made in doing so."

"Thank you, but I think not," said Katie, moving it to the side. "And speaking of school . . .You heard about Ron and Lavender, right? You must have heard?"

Fred blinked. "I'm surprised you have. Leanne?"

"Ginny. She was sending me letters, updating me about the team all while I was in St Mungos. And in some of them she brought along news as well. News about her, about you and George, and about Ron in that one case." Katie paused. "So . . .didn't that make you think perhaps it was time . . .?"

Fred shrugged. "There's no time, Katie. Whatever time Hermione has . . .it won't be with me."

Katie frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Fred answered, his determined gaze leaving no room for objection. "She's head over heels for someone else and I should be too. We're not in school anymore."

Katie snorted. "I am."

Fred flicked a piece of crumpled wrapping paper at her.

The memory shifted . . .

Dumbledore's funeral. As soon as Hermione entered this new memory she knew that it was Dumbledore's funeral. Even now, over a year later, she could feel the shift in atmosphere. Even now, she was astounded they'd all managed without him to lead them. Never mind her personal feelings and wonderings surrounding the old Headmaster; his presence had been enormous in the Wizarding community, there was no denying. And if you wouldn't believe it when hearing about all he'd done, you could simply gaze at the vast crowd of witches and wizards attending his funeral.

Hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows by the Black Lake. Young and old, Order members and not, alive and dead even (the ghosts were barely visible in the sunlight), all of them were there to show their respects to the great Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione spotted Fred and George, wearing black dragon skin jackets, sitting a few rows in front of where she knew she, Harry, Ginny and Ron were seated. The two of them wore as serious an air as the two of them could, obviously as disheartened as the rest of them that the man with the twinkling blue eyes were gone. Eyes that could now only be seen on his portrait.

"You know, I still can't believe it," said George.

"I don't think you're alone in that, brother," said Bill, grimacing as he failed to stand like the rest of the crowd and instead sunk back into his seat again.

"There's no need to rush, chére," said Fleur, fiddling with his bandages, making sure nothing was out of place. "The ceremony just ended."

"I know, I know," Bill sighed, looking disappointed in himself nonetheless.

In front of them, their mother gave an audible sniff and Mr. Weasley wrapped a comforting arm around his wife.

"Where's the rest of our lot?" George asked. "Anyone seen Ron and Gin around?"

Fred smiled weakly and pointed a thumb behind him. "They're with Harry and Hermione."

George followed to where he pointed and immediately his expression fell. Harry was walking away from the rest of them, alone around the lake, leaving Ginny falling forward in her seat as soon as his back turned. It looked like she was trying to pull herself together. And to make matters worse, Ron was now holding a sobbing Hermione as both of them cried.

George turned back to his twin, unsure of what to say, until . . .

"Our brother is in a league of his own; making a move while on a funeral."

George's grin widened along with his brother's. "Is there no low he won't stoop to?"

"What are you two on about?" Bill asked tiredly.

"Nothing!" the twins chorused, looking for the world that nothing was amiss. There was no trace of their mutual struggle to be with the one they cared for, no sign of the gloom that resulted in the fact that they couldn't. There was nothing but smiles and grins from the Weasley twins, because for as long as they had each other, that was nothing they couldn't overcome.

That's what Hermione saw this moment as, anyway. And it hurt her soul even more now to remember how alone George must feel right now. How alone she suddenly felt.

That was all she had time to think before the darkness overtook her and it was time to pull her head out the Pensieve again.

~o0o~

A/N: HELLO

IT'S BEEN FOREVER

I AM SO SORRY

Hopefully, you've all been doing okay! It's amazing how much I love this story, which is why it took the time it took to write all of this. I wanted to make it right, I wanted you to get the memories you deserved. So yeah, it might have taken a while, but it's here now and the last vials are on their way! Yaaaaay!

I'll try to update as soon as I can, if I can prevent myself from getting to emotional at the thought of the memories of Fred Weasley throughout the books almost being over. . .

Hope you enjoyed, my little beans!
Until next time!
/Primrue