Author's (long) Note:

Point 1: because of tomorrow's anniversary, (9/11) I'm updating today. I try not to spend too much time online on that date for personal reasons. Thus the Thursday update.

Point 2:Someone had asked in the previous chapter the significance of Malfoy's words " I guess we all have our own Fred Weasleys" in reference to the Slytherin who was killed in the battle. Before we start Chapter 8 I wanted to expound on that…because I'm the Author, and that's what we do.

In the Battle of Hogwarts, there was a heavy student death toll that we know of. We know of mainly Gryffindor deaths from the cannon, Nigel, Colin Creevy, Lavender and Fred. Personally, I think of those four, Fred would have been the most well know. The most remembered by fellow students for all he had done while he was at Hogwarts. Fred Weasley who used to sell skivving snacks for a sickle when Hermione Granger wasn't looking. Fred Weasley who was half of the best Beater duo the school had seen in recent memory. Fred Weasley the prankster. Fred Weasley the student combatant against Umbridge. Fred Weasley who even Peeves respected in the fight against Umbridge. Fred Weasley, who was part of the most well known rebel family that had stood by Harry Potter since his mum helped Harry get on the Platform. I think Fred would have become the Patron Saint of Gryffindor after the battle had ended and the bodies were buried. He would have been the grave on Guard's Hill that always had a flower or a box of skivving snacks sitting atop the tomb.

But it is important to remember he was not alone. Malfoy's "I guess we all have our own Fred Weasleys" is student's way of saying it wasn't just Gryffindors that chose to fight and die at the Battle of Hogwarts. In this fan fiction, I reference several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were killed. Oliver Basswood, sixth year Slytherin, and his make shift memorial represents the fact that all houses had someone who was killed in the battle, and that the year following the Battle of Hogwarts emotions were so raw because it was still so fresh. Anna Denton went thru her seventh year without her best friend and had a physical reminder at that school that he had died saving her. These students may not have been as well known, but that they were still a youth who had been cut down in a flash of green light or a shower of stones. And the way I wrote it, you could almost argue that the Slytherin died a more Gryffindor death than Fred, but that's not important The point in the flashback is that all the houses had their heroes, students they remember. The only difference was they were less known or less remembered by other houses because, unlike Fred Weasley who had been the voice on the other end of Potterwatch, they hadn't been as well known in life as they became in death.

So long Author's note. But they you go. Now you know. . .

Falling Home

The more and more time Hermione spent in the past, the more she compared her circumstance to that of being stuck in a rerun of one of her mum's television show. It was as though she had been cursed to relive Season Six of her life at Hogwarts. It wasn't that Season Six was bad per se, but it was among her least favorite seasons. It was slightly better than Season Five as she would not be battling Delores Umbridge. But she was certainly headed back into what she felt was the most teenage of all her Hogwarts years.

The first person she saw when she came thru the barrier was Lavender Brown, arm in arm with Parvati laughing as they pushed their way to the train.

This was the season that she'd watch the boy she was falling in love with, fall in love with another girl. That girl in particular. The not over bright, but not unfortunate looking witch who was laughing at something her friend was whispering. That girl who nearly pushed a kid off the platform because she wasn't paying attention pushing their trolley.

This is a rerun, you know what happens—

Yes, she knew what happened. She would watch a year of Lavender and Ronald trying to see who could last longer in a snogging session. This was the year that she would send birds on him and let Crookshanks shred one of Lavender's sweaters. This was the year she developed a love for Hogwarts and all the hidden sanctuaries she could run to when the two would find a way to chase her out of her beloved Gryffindor Tower.

But in the end it all fell the way it should.

This was the year he said he loved her when she fixed one of essays after his grammar quill failed. This was the year he called for her when he was poisoned and unconscious. Lavender didn't forget that. Or forgive it. The storybooks would say that Hermione and Ron would come together as he proposed they save the House Elves at the top of a staircase. The stories passed down in the family wouldn't include that it was at this exact moment Lavender was killed by Greyback in the Great Hall, but Hermione remembered. She had been the one to help Paravati clean her face before her parents came to claim the body.

The thought wasn't as comforting as she had hoped. She looked again at her dorm mate, her golden locks swept into a ponytail that seemed to bounce as she walked with Parvati. She was just a ghost who had yet to die. Looking around Hermione could see a few more ghosts walking with the living, unaware as their futures as they headed back to one of their last year at Hogwarts.

Amanda McCullough, a little fourth year from Ravenclaw who had snuck back with her cousin—she'd meet her end in the alcove on the third floor.

McKenna North walked by holding hands with Winston Oswlad, both Hufflepuff,—they and three others would be found trapped under the rubble on the seventh floor landing. They never had a chance. McKenna and Winston had chosen to stay at Hogwarts as ghosts. They were part of that Student Guard—the victims that lingered, now forever tied to the school—who had surprised her that first year back at the feast.

Oliver Basswood was helping Anna Denton with her trunk onto the train. She could see one of his fellow Slytherins pointing and making a remark to a classmate and rolled his eyes. Anna would live, only because Oliver had chosen to die instead of her under that rubble.

Another face—Nigel—he was in his third year now, and was hitting his growth sprit. He was lost in a hug from a woman Hermione assumed was his mother. The woman's face was hidden by his shoulder but Nigel's eyes kept darting to his friends coming in the distance. He'd die right before the armistice was called.

Colin and Dennis Creevey were smiling for their parents in one last picture before the year start, She never realized how much both brothers looked like their mother. Her sandy curls tucked in a hat as she smoothed her sons hair. Collin met Hermione's eyes and beaming gave a familiar wave.

Hermione's mother had once taken her to see Les Miserables in London the summer of her third year. She wondered how Marius would have felt if, at the end of Empty Chairs and Empty Tables, all the ghosts he sang about walked through the door and continued at those chairs and tables as they had before. She'd say "haunted" was the least of the emotions she was feeling. She wanted to warn them. She wanted to save them. All of them. She wanted to tell them to get off the train, and to go to Australia. To Argentina. To anywhere but Hogwarts. She wanted to tell their loved ones to make sure they never returned. To take them back through the barrier and forget about a place named Hogwarts. Tell them to transfer their child to Beauxbatons. To do an exchange in the Americas. To go into hiding because their existence demanded so. Anywhere but Hogwarts.

But she couldn't safe them. Not unless she risked everything, and McGonagall's words echoed, magic comes with a price—

And then in the distance she could hear the most misplaced ghost of all, shouting last minute sales in his magenta work robes, carrying a tray of assorted skiving snacks, with a smile plaster onto his face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking over his shoulder to see what Weasley he was saying farewell too. Or maybe Katie. It was her last year after all, but she couldn't see anyone.

"We figured we could make some last minute sales, Skiving snacks are flying like hot cakes," he winked as he tapped the side of his tray and a lid closed over the contents, Fred dropping it to his side as it now appeared like a side cross bag.

"You just wanted to make sure I had mayhem to deal with this year," she replied crossing her arms, "I'm not as young as I used to be." He didn't know how true that was. She was a nineteen year old headed to redo a flawless sixth year. She couldn't imagine being the slightest bit annoyed by skiving snacks after the hell she'd been thru the last two years, but she was going to have to try.

"Rubbish, there isn't anything Hermione Granger can't finish if she sets her mind to it," he answered, "Anyway, I really wanted to come see you off. George sends his regards. At least he will when he finds out this where I went off too. It was just supposed to be Verity and Lee but I wanted to see you back to Hogwarts. They can manage sales for now, "

She kept on walking towards the group of Weasleys a few yards ahead, but turned around too look at him, still standing where he had met her. "Why?"

"Because I can," he sighed exasperated, "And because I wanted to give you this" he extended his arm, a small orange box with purple strings emerging from his pocket, "you know, Good luck for a new term and all."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, taking the box. "Thank you," she said, before heading to the train again.

"How is that book working?" He asked, sprinting behind her, "Anyone hexed yet?"

Hermione had done a few tests and she had found it useful yet. She was surprised how little threat there was to people reading it but it was all as a precaution. No one should know as much about the future as you, she reasoned. No need for that mayhem to continue on. She gave him a smile and slowed her pace for him to catch up, "I think it's going to work out all right. Did you put a form of the Pensar charm? I start writing and the memories become clearer when I read them again."

"I wondered if you would catch that," he smiled, brushing the back of his neck, "I wanted to see if it would work. It's a beta after all."

It was happening again. They were falling into that clear and comfortable conversation. Is this what it would have been like, had she become friends with Fred before? Was it easy to find that comfort when you weren't yelling at him for testing products on first years or trying to steal toilet seats? She had been hoping that the coma she must have fallen into in the ski accident would have ended before she had to go back to Hogwarts. He wouldn't be there. And while she knew quite well how the entire year was going to pan out, for some reason, she wished he could come along. So she could have one more day. One more conversation with Fred. Before the wall would come down.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts of warm summer days and the twins visits to the Burrow.

She averted her eyes but smiled anyway. "Nothing. How about you?"

He returned the smirk, "Nothing at all."

They were only a few yards from his family. She could see Molly straitening Ron's collar and tucking a sandwich in Harry's bag. Ginny must have already walked off to join Dean. He must have caught where her eyes were wandering. To his family. To his brother. To the train back to Hogwarts.

"You let me know how the Journal works," He said as they stopped a far off, "And if Ron tries to read it I'll render him useless."

She looked and the gift in her hand, "Let me open this before you go wandering off," she tried, not quiet wanting to let him go yet. She said pulling at the strings. "It's nothing special. It's really just a bag to hide things in. I figured if you were so secretive about whatever your writing in there, you'd want a safe place to but it. I put an extendable charm so if there's anything else you need hiding, it'll fit. Had a Great Aunt Mary that was particularly good at extendable bags."

He's giving you a bag a good year before you make your own, she smiled to herself. She took her arms and wrapped them around his neck, hugging him again on Kings Cross platform. "Thank you Fred," she said softly in his ear. She could feel his arms around her and she supposed this was more familiar to him than the first time. She was caught off guard as his hand smoothed out her hair while they pulled away.

"Where has Hermione gone?" Mrs. Weasley called out and she whipped her head to see a rather bewildered Ron and Harry looking at her as though she had failed to answer a question right. He squeezed her hand and let go. "Keep in touch," he said, as he joined her in stride to his family.

"Fred, what are you doing here?" Mrs Weasley asked, kissing her son's cheek as he joined the party. The Aurors had already put the trunks on the train. All that was left was to get on it.

"Business called," Fred said to his mother, tapping the sidebar with the golden WWW interlocked between them all. He tossed a wink her way. "Besides, figured I could treat you and dad to lunch after this lot gets on the train which—" a conductor's whistle pierced the air, " You best ought to."

Ginny and Dean had already disappeared. Harry first, then Ron and finally Hermione boarded the train as it started to pull out, the door closing behind her. She turned and looked out the window, watching him walk with his parents the length of the train.

She usually didn't look at the parents on the platform. Her parents rarely dropped her off. She didn't need to search the mob for their faces because she knew they weren't there. She never had to search for the people she would look for because they all had that mop of red hair that pulled them out for her. But she looked back this time. She looked and saw the same stressed faces that had lined Diagon Alley. More than one mother, leaning on their husband's arm or crushing his hand as though they might not live to see their childs return, not fathoming that maybe it would be their child who was doomed to die in Hogwarts walls.

She saw those faces, but she searched to find Fred's. He had walked almost to the end of the platform, following her window, trying to keep up without drawing too much attention. Ron and Harry had done this. Ron had held her hand, kissing it, before the train picked up speed and she disappeared along the bend. He had smiled then, turned and walked off with Harry. She had seen them both turn and walk away.

But Fred was still following. He gave a smile and a wave and she knew he could still see her. When the train picked up speed, she saw him stop at the end of the platform. There, standing in his magenta roes and side bag, she could have sworn even it had a hint of sadness as the train pulled out of the station.

((*))

Her conversation with Fred had already set her year off on the wrong foot.

Last time, she and Ron had disappeared as soon as they got on the platform to meet at the Prefect's Car and get ready for the meeting with the Heads for that year, Ross Gibberd and Cecilia Ovkin. They had been the first in the compartment, beating the heads and had sat talking. About Harry. About the school year. About Quidditch. He had complemented her on something—her hair, she remembered. He said it had gotten a shade lighter from the sun and quidditch—that it looked like sunshine. It was silly, but she knew it had been sincere.

Now, they had emerged from the meeting—to which they had arrived late and had to sit in the back next to Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil. They had the same assignment as last time, so their tardiness hadn't changed from what it had been before, monitoring the middle compartments. But something had changed. Primarily, Ronald's mood.

Before they had exchanged pleasant conversation. This time, she was struggling to get any words out of him. He was never a stickler of being on time before, she couldn't think what that would have caused him to be so offended by their tardiness.

"Saw you and Fred on the platform," he finally said, bitter evident in his tone. "What's going on with you two?"

Bullocks.

"What do you mean?" she asked, stopping in front of a closed compartment of third year girls, "I ran into him on the platform before he found you lot. I was just talking to him."

"Just ta—" he stopped, "What do you guys even talk about? You're not friends with each other. You don't even like him—"

"Ronald Weasley," she started, her temper rolling "Of course I like him. Its impossible not to like Fred. Of course we're friends—he's, he's Fred."

If Ron knew the incantation for birds, she'd probably have a few darting themselves at her now. "We're friends and we never hug."

"We do too—we have anyway," she looked at him, her temper slowing down. "It was a hug, a goodbye. With You-Know-Who and his murderous tendencies might make me a hugger."

He likes you right now, she thought to herself and she felt a suddon prang of guilt in her chest. This wasn't the war Ron, who had swept her off the floor at Malfoy Manor and asked her if they should save the House Elves during the heat of battle. This wasn't the Ron who in the months of peace that came after followed her to Australia and reunite her with her parents, who would kiss her and still turn pink in the ears. This wasn't the Ron who she had fallen into a normal, predicable relationship with. This was the insecure Ron. The one who wasn't quite sure what to do once he put a name on the emotion he felt for her.

She leaned against the wall with him, her shoulder hitting his upper arm. "Fred's been helping me with a book I'm going to use to study this term. That's why we've been so friendly," she explained, hoping he wouldn't question the lie. "There's stuff in the shop that are for more than laughs. Besides, I'm not going to see him till Christmas if even then—so yes I hugged him. If it was you on that platform I'd do the same thing."

And she had. But that was another life ago.

He still didn't seem sold on her response, but his eyes didn't glare at her near as often. "So what are you going to do, once we get back?" she asked still leaning against the wall and him, hoping she could veer of the topic of his brother.

" Probably train up a bit for Quidditch, make sure I can make the team," he answered, slouching more against the wall himself, "What about you?"

She laughed at this, "Same as every year. Study" even he chuckled. She had missed Ron's laugh. Especially when they were on the run, but even so now. "I think I might be able to get a jump start on my NEWTs—"

"Oh Hermione, live a little," he laughed again, although this one almost sounded like a groan. "We don't take those till next year, don't worry about them. Go to a Quidditch game or something else, it doesn't have to be all about school."

"Well, you never know if we'll be here next year—" she said carefully, as though she wanted to foreshadow but didn't want to make it obvious. He stood straighter and looked at her surprised, "What do you mean? Of course we'll be here. I'm not planning on opening a Joke Shop and mum would tan my hide and kill the twins if I didn't finish out."

She was struggling on how to find the right words, "Say You-Know-Who takes over the Ministry. Hogwarts isn't going to be taking in muggleborn first years, or seventh years for that matter. And if the muggleborn is in close alliance to Harry Potter, it's not going to get me any points."

"Hermione Granger seriously not sit for her NEWT exams? Are you mental?" he shook his head, "If it came to that we'd find a way around it. We'll go to London and steal some red hair clippings. Uncle Billius sewed some wild oats before he died, you can be Cousin Hermia for what anyone knows."

For all his short comings, Hermione Granger couldn't deny that Ron had his mother's heart. And that was one of the reasons why she hoped in the darkest corner of her heart that maybe they'd be able to work things out after the war. That their spark would come back. This was the Ron she fell in love with. The insecure one who was thinking of ways to save a friend from events he didn't know would actually be realized. The Ron would who was human enough to leave, but better for coming back.

"It'll be slightly obvious when Hermione Granger disappears and Hermia Weasley hits the scene, don't you think?" she asked cocking her head to the side.

"We'll have Fred and George help too. They're pretty good at forging things, maybe not Hermia—we could call you Rose. Rosie Weasley," he said assured, "And even if they tried to hide you or torture you or whatever, do you seriously think Harry and I would stand for that?"

"We'll face that bridge when it comes," she saw Anthony and Padme come through the door to relieve them, "Come on, lets go find Harry," she nudged. In full honesty, it took restraint not to grab his hand as she would have done out of habit of before, but she'd only imagine how soon Parvati and Lavender would find out and for better or for worse, that had to pan out…

"It's going to be bad Hermione, but we'll stick through it together," he said, his hand slightly brushing against her's as though he wanted to connect the dots now. And for the slightest moment, she wanted to believe he would.

((*))

Ron looked out the window when the train came to a stop a few hours later. "We're here already?"

Hermione looked up from the book, where she had started the time line of what was supposed to happen this year. She leaned towards the window and saw the dancing lights of Hogsmeade village. "Looks like we are. Best get into to our robes," she said as she tucked the book in her knapsack and pulled out the black robes she had set aside earlier.

"But what about Harry?" Ron said, fixing his tie, "Should we go outside and see if we can find him there?"

She knew they wouldn't find him. That was the first thing she had written in her book. Harry would be in Malfoy's compartment, eavesdropping, waiting for a confession amongst the Slytherins of his Death Eater activities. They wouldn't be reunited until half way through the feast.

But Ron didn't know that. And she wasn't supposed to know either.

"Yeah, Lets see if we can find a carriage, Harry probably got off before the train slowed down, you know he's only going to get more people following after him now that the Prophet supports his story again," she chattered on, as they left the compartment and headed out to the Platform.

A sea of students had drained on to the platform. She could see Hagrid in the distance with his lantern held high, calling for the first years. Others were clamoring down the path that led to the carriages, she could see the drawn shadows in the distance of the thestrals. She was glad she had seen them before, or Ron would have seen her tense up and wanted to know what was wrong.

She thought she may have betrayed herself when she felt a hand on her shoulder and thought it was Ron. But when she turned she was greeted by a mousy haired Tonks with a smile pulling at the corners of her face.

"Wotcher Hermione," she said with a wink, "And you too Ron."

"Tonks, what are you doing here?" she asked. She felt a thick piece of parchment in her hand. "What—"

" I have to make sure everyone disembarks the train, or I'd love to stick around," she said to both of them, she leaned into Hermione's ear giving her an uncharacteristic hug. She hadn't remembered all these hugs the firs time around. But then she heard the Auror whisper, "There's a fireplace in the stationhouse, go now."

It didn't make any sense. None of it did. "What is that?" Ron asked at the parchment. He might have said a little bit more but she didn't hear him. She walked back to the train where in the golden light she could make out the emerald script, ever so slanted. Hermione Granger, Hogsmeade Station.

The back had a wax seal that she had seen the summer she had stayed at Head Quarters. A Phoenix in red wax. It was the Order's symbol. It was Dumbledore's symbol.

Dear Miss Granger,

I would greatly enjoy a conversation with you and your present circumstances prior to the start of term. If you could meet me in my office prior to the Start of Term Feast, I feel we can make arrangements to your current situation. The station house has a fireplace Miss Tonks referenced has been connected to my office to provide immediate access.

Best regards,

A. Dumbledore

AN: I think that's the most fluff I've put in this story. From the limited Fred/Hermione I've read, there tends to be a good amount of Ron bashing and I really hope it doesn't come to that in this. I feel like Hermione in this and later chapters is going to find herself not only contrasting the brothers, but also contrasting the Ron of her sixth year with the Ron that emerges from the Battle of Hogwarts. I don't intend to go into severe bashing. Ron's one of my favorites, and I hope I can do him justice...minus the fact I'm shipping his girl with his brother.

I think that's that. Thank you so much for all the love this story has gotten, I greatly appreciate all of you all, as well as dear Jen for her input and helping me keep up with this thus far. Next week we'll see Hermione and Dumbledore see what the options are, Fred will be at the shop thinking of what Hermione could have meant by Time Turner products, and Hermione's going to struggle when Harry comes out of NEWT potions with an haunting second hand book. Stay tuned till then,-KH.