His Last Wish, Epilogue (part two)

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"'While the weather's a bit too warm for my liking, it appears Harry loves it so it's not all bad. However, if I see one more mosquito I am going to get on my broom and go back home. With or without my husband.'" George chuckled as he set aside Ginny's letter on the kitchen table. "She always had a flair for drama, our sister."

"That she did," said Bill, smiling into his cup of tea.

Fred, meanwhile, didn't say much. Instead, he watched the waves outside the frosted tinted windows of Shell Cottage.

"So . . . d'you reckon Victoire will have another little cousin soon? Obviously not one as amazing as my little Fred or the little one brewing in Ange's stomach right now, but you know." George bit off a piece of his biscuit.

Bill shrugged. "We'll see. I don't think they're in that much of a hurry. From the sounds of it, Ginny wants to focus on the Harpies and Harry is reconsidering his position at the Ministry."

"Oh?"

"The talk is that he's had enough violence and Professor McGonagall asked him at the wedding if he might not consider a teaching position at Hogwarts instead."

"That sounds perfect," said George, earnestly. "Harry taught us a lot in the D.A. after all. Didn't he, Fred?"

"Hm? Yes, he did," answered Fred.

George made a small face but continued his conversation with Bill. Fred tuned out after a while and went over a different conversation he'd had. Much like he'd done the entire week, in fact.

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. What made Hermione so worried about him feeling like he owed her something? Of course he owed her! She'd saved his life! He owed her everything and more.

"You two are driving me barmy, you know that, right?"George was lecturing him again. After a couple of minutes of silence as the two of them walked along the beach outside Bill and Fleur's cottage he'd had enough. Fred knew he was thinking too much and he knew his brother was frustrated with it. He also knew George had grown frustrated with Hermione. "For all the ways I care for her," he said, "for saving you, for being part of our family in a way . . . she isn't the most clear person I've met when it comes to explaining her feelings. Probably because she has no idea what she's feeling herself. Honestly, when you were gone, I have to admit I didn't treat her right. In fact I resented her in some ways."

"You did?" asked Fred. "Why?"

"Why d'you think? You were gone and she was snogging our brother. I knew how you felt about her and it felt like . . . like a betrayal to you and your memory to approve of them." George sighed. "Logically, I knew she was doing nothing wrong. How could she have known how you felt? You never told her and you agreed that her and Ron being together was the better choice for them both. But then . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Well, then something changed. It was almost like she was the only one thinking about you still. In a fond way, rather than a pained one. And that made me glad at first, but then I was being harsh on her again. I resented her for thinking about you, when it was too late. When you had spent years thinking about her and it was almost like I thought I was the only one with the right to think about you. No one else could do your memory justice but me . . . I . . ."

"Georgie . . ." Fred couldn't help it, he hugged his twin with all the strength he had. He couldn't imagine ever living a day without George, just the thought of it made him sick and scared. They'd gone over this before, but Fred would never stop reminding George of the fact that he wasn't alone anymore. Never.

"Anyway," said George when Fred released him, "I think that both of you are being too unclear and extremely bad at communicating. You need to talk. Properly this time."

"Angelina sure did a number on you," Fred joked. "To have you of all people tell me this."

George laughed, no doubt remembering how long he'd gone without telling her how he felt and feeling silly for it. "I suppose that's fair."

Fred gaped. "Fair? It's more than fair! It took a war for you to admit to her how you felt!"

"So? It took you dying and coming back to life," smirked George.

Fred rolled his eyes.

"Who died, Uncle Fred?" Victoire looked up at them both, having run up to them and wondering why they weren't playing with her. All while Bill smiled awkwardly behind her.

Fred observed her blonde and windswept hair, the way her big blue eyes was trained on him as she possessively held a stick she'd found on the ground. And the casual way she'd just called him 'Uncle Fred'.

He smiled.

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Normally, Fred might attempt a big gesture for such a moment as this: the proclaiming of his love for the Hermione Jean Granger. However, even though he hated to admit it, this wasn't the time for a big gesture. George was right, for this to go anywhere (be it beginning or end) he and Hermione would have to sit down and talk, and wasn't that exciting as well?

Fred groaned. No, it wasn't.

And not because open communication was boring, but because to Fred it was extremely hard. He was never afraid to tell people what he thought or to tell them off if he considered what they did to be wrong, but this was such a different matter entirely that Fred found himself ill prepared for it.

After all, there was a reason he hadn't truly attempted it until now.

"Right, discussion. Honest. Clear." Fred mumbled to himself as he sat on the floor of his poorly furnished apartment as he scribbled down keywords for his letter to Hermione.

It was lucky that both him and George had had the good sense to write up a testament declaring the successor of their vaults at Gringotts before Fred had officially died. That way George had ended up with Fred's money and, being too grief stricken to touch them, it had led to Fred receiving it all back when he entered the future. And that's how he could afford this apartment, right across the street from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The bustle outside the window from Diagon Alley proved a little distracting after months of calm at the Burrow, but Fred had missed it. He was glad to have taken the leap to try things on his own.

But back to the letter . . .

Preferably, he would have had this discussion face to face. He wanted to watch her reaction, wanted to imagine how after he'd confessed his feelings, Hermione would be so overcome by the romantic gesture that she might even end up giving him a kiss . . . or two . . .

He shook his head. No, that's why he had to do it this way, she was far too distracting. Not to mention too prone to flee the scene. If he handed her a letter she'd feel obliged to read it. He knew her, there had yet to be a written word she wasn't interested in reading.

"You have got to be joking."

Fred's gaze turned to his fireplace. "Katie?"

Katie Bell, Fred's former Quidditch team member from Hogwarts was currently poking her head through his fireplace, rolling her eyes at him. "I can't believe you're going to tell her in a letter."

"Oy!" said Fred. "It's romantic!"

"It's pathetic! After everything you've been through, you still can't muster up the courage to be vulnerable? Blimey, Fred, just go up to her and tell her how you feel!"

Fred frowned. "What do you know? You're just a head in my fireplace."

Katie laughed. "I'm coming over then, yeah?"

"Not like I can stop you."

A minute later Katie was wiping soot off of her robes. "Honestly, you couldn't have cleaned before I came over?"

Fred chuckled and handed Katie a pillow to sit on next to the fireplace as he levitated a kettle and cups for their tea.

"Oh, only one sugar, please," said Katie, sipping at her cup gratefully. "This weather is going to freeze my bones to ice, I swear. My place is in dire need of some enhanced heating charms. You wouldn't fancy helping me with that, would you?"

"I'll have a look at it for you next week," promised Fred, positioning himself across from her on his own pillow.

"Cheers." Katie took another sip. Then, "Now what's this about writing her a letter? The one you wrote to me was a bit hard to understand. So Hermione said she didn't want to confuse you?"

"Exactly." Fred tapped a finger against his cup of tea until Katie asked him to stop. "Sorry, I just . . . well, nerves, I suppose. And I am nervous, Kates. I have no idea what she meant and I don't know what she's thinking. I . . . I am also aware that I don't really know her. Not anymore anyway. I was gone a long time."

Katie's expression turned slightly pondering. "But you two looked so familiar at the wedding. All of you actually."

"Well, I am still adjusting. Not everyday you wake up and three years have passed," Fred added bitterly.

"Well, it's not everyday you get cursed by a necklace and you wake up to have lost several months."

Fred blinked. "Oh, I am so sorry, I . . . forgot."

Katie waved him off. "It's fine. So long as you don't mind me saying that I didn't really see you as dead. I mean, I knew logically that you were dead, but we were never really seeing each other regularly after Hogwarts and when you came back . . . well, it was more like you'd been away on a really long vacation. I missed you, of course. But yeah, there it is."

Fred had to admit, that sounded strange to hear, but honestly also a bit comforting. Katie's world hadn't crumbled when he'd died. It was nice to think there was one person who cared about him but who hadn't been left to devastation by the loss of him. Somehow.

Katie continued, "Having been in a somewhat similar situation, I can tell you this: Don't go about living exactly as you did before. Don't let your regrets linger when you have a second chance. Doing it the way you did before clearly didn't work or else you'd be together by now. Right?"

"I suppose," said Fred. He glanced at the discarded parchment across the floor. Wasn't this similar to the vials? He'd made them and he'd imagined what would have happened once Hermione found them, but he'd never actually gone out of his way before that to tell her how he felt. He hadn't even intentionally given them to her! Granted, back then there had been Ron, but even before that . . .Why did he always wait? Why did he always have to concern himself with how to create the perfect moment? Why not simply tell her how he felt?

Fred swallowed. "What if she doesn't feel the same way?"

Katie shrugged. "Then there will be someone else."

Fred hated that thought.

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"We're invited to what?"

George shook his head at the letter he held. He tossed it in the bin and jumped down from the register, resuming building the small tower of 'Nosebleed Nougats' boxes in front of it. "The Malfoys' annual gratitude feast. They hold it this time of year, to have us remember to spend another year grateful for the hard work the ministry does."

"Huh," said Fred, "Since when are we grateful for that?"

Ron walked by, carrying a box of 'Extendable Ears'. "Since Hermione joined them and has been working hard to become the Head of the Department of Magical Law."

"Hermione's going?" asked Fred.

"We all are. Well, I'm not," said Ron. "Last time I was there I almost screamed my lungs out at the Malfoys. To have her forced to go back to that place . . . Gits . . ."

Fred's mood instantly darkened. He'd heard all about the trio's time at Malfoy Manor. How Draco Malfoy had proved himself to not be too much of a git in not revealing Harry's true identity, how Harry, Ron, Luna and Dean had been held in the dungeon and how Hermione . . . how they'd hurt her.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but well done, Ron."

Ron's ears grew red at the genuine praise. "Oh, piss off."

Fred grinned. "So, the Ministry wants us there, ey?"

"We've supplied them with enough helpful gear, haven't we?" said George, to which Ron nodded. "We go to show support for the work they are trying to do; that Kingsley and Hermione's trying to do, that is. And they want to show off the young Weasley entrepreneurs that help the Ministry get more efficient with their delightful 'toys'. It saved many during the war. The fact that Harry Potter himself uses the products doesn't hurt either."

"So basically, you go to try to score investment from rich purebloods?"

George shrugged. "In a sense, yes."

"Huh." Fred suspected, had he been here, the two of them would have rejoiced in stealing money from the rich, but all he could feel now was empty discomfort. To think that he agreed more with Ron in this matter . . .The world had truly gone mad.

"If you don't want to go, Freddie, I am not forcing you," said George. His look was cautious, like he knew Fred was debating with himself over this new development.

"I don't know," said Fred, earnestly. "I don't want to go, but I do want to help us grow as a business. Expand, perhaps set up another shop close to Hogsmeade. With there being three of us, that could finally be possible. If Ron wouldn't mind, of course."

Ron perked up. "What?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, and if Harry would take a position at Hogwarts, perhaps you would like to be close by. Even have easy access to the Quidditch matches all year round. You know, you and Susan could have a place of your own— "

Ron dropped the 'Extendable Ears'. "Oh, I geddit now. You're trying to send me away."

"What?" The twins looked perplexed at each other.

"Yeah, you're back and now you two want to return to how it was before. Can't do that with a third wheel brother hangin' about, can you?"

"Ron, you misunderstand . . ."

"No, I understand perfectly!"

Ron stormed off, past a confused Verity who clutched the Muggle wands in her arms tightly. Luckily the store had closed for the evening or else there would have been customers here too.

She frowned, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dare I ask?"

"Well . . ." Fred didn't know what to say and let his words fade.

George sighed. "I'll sort this out."

Then he went after their brother, leaving Fred to feel worse than before.

"Mr. Weasley?" Verity glanced at him, concerned.

"I didn't mean to make him feel left out," said Fred.

"Ah." Verity placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, before moving toward the far end of the store, no doubt leaving him to ponder by himself.

Since returning, all Fred had thought about was how his absence had made things difficult for people. But he hadn't truly taken time to contemplate the consequences his return had had. Not really. And by seeing Ron's reaction, he judged that he might have underestimated just how much of a difference it had made.

Fred glanced at the bin, at the crumpled invite sent to them by the Malfoy's. Perhaps it was time for him to realise that he had an influence on people and stop hiding. He affected Hermione, that much he knew, but he needed to do more. He couldn't just wait for something to happen, he had to make it happen.

But first, he had to assure his brother that he wasn't back to push him out.

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The talk with Ron went as well as anyone could expect. Neither of them were used to being honest and genuine with the other and it made for many awkward silences, but in the end they had sorted it all out.

Fred had assured Ron that he wasn't there to replace him, while Ron had made certain Fred knew that he'd never meant to make Fred feel as if he had replaced Fred in his absence.

Needless to say, they wouldn't have to have another heart to heart anytime soon.

"You're sure you're all right, Freddie?" George asked as he poured another glass of firewhiskey for Fred.

"I'm fine," said Fred, smiling weakly. He lay rested on the couch in George's living room, trying to find some peace and quiet in his mind, rubbing his temples. "It's just a lot sometimes, you know?"

George nodded, moving a stuffed hippogriff toy from his armchair before sitting down. "What will you do?"

"Ron agreed that it was the best solution for him to move to Hogsmeade and that if need be he could be in charge of the new shop. I think he was excited at the prospect once he truly considered it. As for me, I suppose I'll have to settle for working with you," joked Fred.

George grinned. "You're barking if you think you're the one settling."

"Angelina's the one settling if you ask me," retorted Fred.

"Very funny."

"I thought so."

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Fred was not laughing now.

The collar of his robes felt too tight and suddenly a dark pit of clenching pain grew in his stomach at the thought of what lay waiting.

Fred had never been to Malfoy Manor. He had never done anything but imagine a place with unnecessarily extravagant furniture and decor that was simultaneously a dungeon, with dark and musty walls where the Malfoys conspired evil deeds. Of course, that had been what he'd imagined it looking as a child. As an adult, well . . .

All he could see now was red eyes laughing as Death Eaters gathered around a Muggle-born witch being tortured. Her brown curls strewn across the carpet that looked expensive even under all the blood.

"Fred?"

Fred blinked and was back looking at the flames inside George and Angelina's fireplace.

Next to him, Angelina was waving a hand in the air, trying to gain his attention. "You all right?"

Fred cleared his throat. "Yeah."

She didn't seem to believe him, but decided to not pry any further. She swung her cloak around her, adjusting it as best she could with her ever growing bump. "George! It's time to go!"

From on top of the stairs, George's voice sounded. "In a moment!"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Why don't you go ahead, Fred? Me and your stupid brother will be right behind you."

Fred nodded, not eager to go yet, but he supposed it was time. He grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the flames. "Malfoy Manor!"

"Welcome, sir! May I take your cloak?"

No sooner had Fred arrived that another wizard had taken his travel cloak from him and pushed him toward a server with a tray of elf made wine.

"T-thank you," said Fred, having no idea where he was or what he was supposed to do next. He looked around. It appeared he was in a greeting area of some sort, where newly arrived witches and wizards could grab a glass and mingle shortly before moving to the larger room.

Fred waited until his brother and Angelina appeared, the two of them tasting the wine and begrudgingly admitting how good it was (Angelina meeting Fred's inquisitive eyes with holding up her index finger, essentially saying 'I can have one glass, Fred! Baby won't mind.'). The two of them looked more at ease, moving through the crowd, walking arm in arm towards him.

"What took you so long?" Fred joked, before grinning as he felt infinitely better with the two of them there.

They reached the ballroom, where a large crowd was already gathered. Everyone dressed to the absolute peak of Pureblood society wear, one more extravagant than the other. All while chandeliers were lit above them and food was served on silver trays around them.

A live band was playing old classical wizard songs, and not the Celestina Warbeck kind, but the ones without lyrics. The ones with string instruments that were purely made for these type of events. In front of them there was a dancing area where people were dancing slowly.

"I can't believe they've outdone themselves again," muttered Angelina.

"I know," said George, looking equally disappointed.

"I can't believe there are so many people here in the first place," said Fred. "Considering all that happened."

George shrugged. "People were easy to forgive the Malfoys when they gave everyone who suffered the amount of money that they did. And their charity work with abandoned werewolf orphans didn't hurt either."

"I see," said Fred.

George clapped his shoulder before leading Angelina by his arm again, "Let's go find everyone else."

Fred walked behind them, taking time to look at everything. It didn't look anything like he'd imagined. Not like a dungeon, not like a Death Eater headquarter . . . in fact, the only thing resembling his imaginings was the feeling that everything here cost more than his family's house. Even the small candlesticks.

"Takes getting used to, I know." A witch had caught him staring at one of the paintings of some old Malfoy ancestor and Fred startled. She was very pretty. "I get a chill down my spine everytime I walk past his solemn old face."

"Oh," said Fred, not sure how to explain to her that he'd been looking at the golden frame, wondering how many Firebolts one could buy for that. "I wasn't . . . though I suppose he is sort of menacing."

She giggled, her brown eyes watching him with curiosity, and she moved a delicate hand to cover her mouth as she did. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who thinks so. How about that one over there?"

"Like he was struck in the face by a bludger."

She nodded approvingly. "And that one?"

"Like he was struck in the face by a bludger. Twice."

Again, she giggled. "You really are funny."

Fred's face heated.

She didn't wait for him to answer but instead directed him to the corner of the room, right by the door leading to the patio. "And what about her?"

It was like butterflies had erupted all over inside his stomach. Like he was the one hit by a bludger now. He hadn't been prepared, hadn't had time to gather himself before seeing her . . . He thought he'd have more time!

She was in heated argument with what looked like a Ministry official, her wild hair threatening to come loose from her braid and her marine coloured robes flew all over the place as she waved her hand animatedly. Meanwhile Draco Malfoy stood next to her looking thoroughly amused.

But Fred wasn't looking at Malfoy, he was looking at Hermione. He always was.

Next to him, the witch smiled. "Oh dear, I suppose we'll have to save poor Auror Robards or Hermione will end up hexing him. Don't you think, Mr. Weasley?"

"Er . . ." Fred tore his eyes off Hermione, ready to politely decline, but something told Fred he had little room to argue and somehow found himself leading her by the arm to the group.

Once they arrived, they could hear the argument more clearly.

". . . don't think you understand that us Aurors are only doing what's required by the law, Miss Granger." Robards was saying.

Hermione sighed. "Then we change the law. Or have you forgotten who you're talking to, Mr. Robards?"

"I am very aware of your ambition, however—"

"It's not simply ambition! It's about what's right! Had we neglected to think about that we still wouldn't have the support of Mr. Malfoy here, who if you might recall is a—"

"Astoria," interrupted Draco Malfoy then, lowering his glass of wine.

The witch stepped out of Fred's arm and smiled broadly as she walked up to Malfoy. Kissing his cheek. "I was off to greet a few more guests. Daphne, Blaise and Theo say hello."

Malfoy only nodded curtly, his eyes now finding Fred. "I see you took some time to make new friends too."

"Oh, well I thought you'd be more than capable of entertaining yourself."

"And clearly, so are you."

Fred thought he might be sick, watching Malfoy flirt. And it appeared to be with his own wife no less. Malfoy's wife.

Fred had been talking pleasantly with Malfoy's wife.

"Mr. Weasley proved to be excellent company," continued Astoria. "He's just as funny as people say."

"A jokester is only as good as his audience," said Fred, flattered and confused. Even more so when he saw Hermione roll her eyes.

"And Astoria is generous in nature," said Malfoy, sipping his wine with a smirk.

Considering everything Fred had to admit that it was a mild way of Malfoy to say what he wanted to say.

"Mr. Robards," said Astoria then, "Have you been to see our garden yet? It's lovely this time of year. Snow everywhere."

"I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure," answered Robard, looking as confused as he had since Fred and Astoria had joined them.

"Well, that won't do. Draco?"

Malfoy set aside his drink in Hermione's free hand and set about leading his wife and their guest outside. But before going away, Fred swore he saw Malfoy shoot Hermione a small teasing look.

It got awfully quiet after that.

"So," began Fred, "That was Malfoy's wife?"

"Yes." Hermione sighed, setting both her and Malfoy's glasses on a passing tray. "And Astoria is one of the loveliest people I've ever met, so don't you start."

"I wasn't going to," said Fred, frowning.

Hermione watched the centre of the ballroom floor, where a group of witches were giggling about someone showing them her engagement ring. Her gaze looked unfocused, as if not really seeing them, rather behaving as if she just didn't want to meet Fred's own gaze.

"Have you been friends with them for a long time?"

This brought a small smile on her face. "Merlin, I suppose we are friends, aren't we?"

"Stranger things have happened."

A small laugh. "I suppose." She looked at him now: shyly, hesitantly. As if she was afraid he'd disappear if she focused on him too much. Fred realised that this was how she'd looked at him ever since he came back.

Fred, meanwhile, couldn't take his eyes off her.

"There you are!"

The two of them turned and saw Neville and Hannah approach. The two of them didn't register the tense atmosphere and walked up to Fred and Hermione, greeting them fondly.

"I swear, Hermione, if Neville hadn't already agreed to finally take Professor Sprout's offer and quit as an Auror I'd force him after tonight. I can't take these stuffy old purebloods anymore!" said Hannah, shaking her head in frustration.

Neville smiled. "Sure you can take it when it's our old Professors you'll have to engage with instead?"

"I'd take a conversation about Ancient Runes over investments any day," answered Hannah.

Fred only half-listened to the conversation. He'd been beyond surprise to hear of Neville's decision to become an Auror after graduating, but when he'd learned the reason being Neville's wish to honour his parents Fred had said nothing more on the subject. And when it had been revealed he'd join Harry at Hogwarts, as a successor to Professor Sprout, Fred had been happy for them both. But this wasn't a good time, he needed to speak with Hermione alone.

"Anyway," continued Hannah, "Neville and I are thinking about cutting the evening short later, perhaps getting a round at the Leaky Cauldron? I swear Tom won't mind if we're there late, I'm his favourite employee. Already asked George and Angelina, they're up for it."

Neville chuckled. "If you want to, of course."

"Oh, erm . . ." said Hermione. "Well, I have to be here for a while longer, but if you want to go then you can."

"Well, we're not leaving now," said Hannah, laughing. "But I understand. What about you, Fred?"

"I too have some official business to tend to, I'm afraid," replied Fred, smiling.

Hannah pouted. "Fine. Neville, let's go find some more wine, I'll need it if I'm to survive this evening."

And with that, they were alone again.

"What sort of business do you have to tend to?" asked Hermione, innocently.

Fred couldn't help but notice there was a poorly disguised curiosity there. He shrugged. "George and I plan on speaking to some potential investors and the like."

Hermione nodded.

"Why'd you ask?"

"No reason, I was simply making conversation." Hermione avoided his gaze again. "We haven't really spoken since . . . well, since the wedding."

"I'm aware," said Fred, sipping his glass, trying to not wince at how he'd let his bitterness show. "You haven't been to any dinners lately."

"I've been busy at work." Hermione hugged her arms to herself again. The door leading outside was open, yet there was a charm preventing cold from slipping inside. Again, it seemed he was making her do that. He hated it.

What had happened to them? He used to be able to make her smile and laugh. Now she constantly looked like this and barely met his eyes.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

If Fred hadn't seen the words come out from her very own mouth, he'd have been convinced he was hearing things. He quickly set aside his drink on a passing tray and he followed her out. It was awkward, just walking side by side, but she hadn't run away yet and Fred wasn't one to question a good thing.

The garden was large and had plenty of room and paths to accommodate whoever had a wish for fresh air. He could have done without the snow covered hedges shaped like giant serpents.

As they started walking he felt warm and realised Hermione had cast a silent heating charm on them both and somehow the thought that she had worried about him getting cold was doing things to him.

"I would have asked you to dance, but people . . . well, they talk. I assumed this might be preferable."

Fred nodded, trying not to argue and tell her how much he wanted to dance with her again. He glanced around and noted that while there was a handful of people walking on the other side of the garden, they were not paying them any attention and seemed rather engaged in their own conversations. "Rita Skeeter is still around then?"

Hermione gave a small smile. "Unfortunately. The tragedy of the war didn't stop her from publishing a biography on Harry or Snape, but at least the one about Harry made him laugh. I do send her reminders still, now and then, about what to leave best alone."

Fred shook his head. "You're a scary witch, Granger."

Hermione frowned.

This only made Fred laugh. "I meant that as a compliment."

Her expression softened and she shyly glanced at the ground. "Thank you."

"So, why are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" Fred saw her softness disappear as quick as it had come and knew he shouldn't have made this joke, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know why she didn't want there to be gossip about them. Fred would have welcomed it with open arms. Unless she really didn't have any feelings for him . . .

Hermione was struggling to speak. "I'm not . . . I could never . . . Is that what you think this is?"

Fred sighed. "What am I supposed to think, Hermione? You won't come to dinner's anymore, you won't talk to me or dance with me in a crowded room. Instead you usher me away to walk behind the bushes. What is it? What did I do?"

Really, what he done to deserve this treatment? Why couldn't she just be honest with him?

Next to him, she was clutching her arms again. It looked like she was about to cry. When she spoke, he could barely hear what she said, her voice was so small. "You haven't done anything, Fred."

He dared reach a hand out, to touch her arm gently. She stopped walking and he did too. "If you wanted to talk to me, now's your chance, Hermione. I can't deal with the small talk anymore. I- I care about you and if there's something about me making you uncomfortable or . . . If you simply don't care about me, then—"

"How could you say that?!"

Fred was taken aback by the fierceness in her reply and retracted his arm. He hadn't expected more than a 'stop being stupid, idiot'.

Hermione was staring at him now, head on. "Why do you keep asking me that?! How dare you! You ask me if I care one more time and I swear I will hex you!"

"Well, what am I supposed to think, Hermione?"

"You are supposed to know that all I've ever done has been for YOU!"

Fred held his breath as Hermione let her tears fall. She was crying. Actually crying. And he had done that.

Shit.

"Hermione . . ." Fred started, but she shook her head.

"This isn't working, I can't do this anymore."

It felt like ice in his veins. "What?"

"I'll have to show you." She wiped her face and reached a hand out. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" asked Fred, letting her lead him to the edge of the garden.

"To the Apparition point."

"Why?"

"Because I am going to show you just how much I care."

~o0o~

A/N: Part two? Part TWO? Of THREE?Apparently.

Oh, lovelies. It's time. It's time to truly prepare for the end. I have imagined this moment for years (literally) and now that we're here I don't know what to say. It feels...surreal. In a way I am not ready to say goodbye and yet I suspect I have been ready for a long time. I will miss writing this fic and to read your lovely comments with each update. It's really been a journey and a gift to be able to share this with you all for the past five years. The person who started this was a very different person from who I am today. But what we had in common was a love for the Potter books and the potential of Fred and Hermione and I suppose this is a perfect salute and goodbye to the person who got this idea and wrote on the very first draft well into the night. Who maniacally crafted timelines after timelines and who I am to thank for having post-its all over my hp books to this day. And who I am to thank for having the guts today to write on my very own stories as well as fics.

And finally, I have to thank you. Yes, YOU. You who have been reading this since the beginning, and you who've maybe just found this story. It's a scary thing to post your writing and to have been met with the warm welcome that I have and to have such kind and respectful readers is just more than what a person could ask for. So from the bottom of my potato shaped heart: thank you.

Hope you enjoyed.

Until next time!
/Primrue

P.S. GUYS! I successfully grew my very first potato! From potato lover to potato parent! Yay!