Chapter Seventeen

Falling Secrets

"Fred, what is this?" she asked again as her fingers traced the outline of McGonagall's letter.

"Shopping list," he said by reflex, trying to get it out of her grasp. For once, you wish you had monkey arms like Ron. He could hear her laugh before he saw her face that revealed a spreading smile. " Oh right, you and George sealing your market list with wax," she stepped away from him and pulled out her wand, "Death Eaters quake at the Weasley Brother's Market List."

She started muttering a spell that sent little blue orbs dancing around them. They were small, but sent a glow of light as though they were striving to imitate the moon's glow while casting the warmth of the sun. She drew the seal close to her eyes, before looking at it again, lightly fingering the outline of a phoenix. "Fred, what is this?" she asked again her voice suddenly dropping as the humor melted away.

She's Hermione Granger, if anyone could keep a secret like this, it's her, he though to himself. She was the girl who had been at Harry's side through all the adventures. Of course, so had his brother— but even with all his shortcomings though, he knew he could trust Ron with something like this—But—

She hadn't seemed like it tonight, but he couldn't forget his fears he had that she hadn't been quite herself. The letter he had written to Dumbledore asking if he had noticed it as ago he would have dismissed the thought but now—

"Can I ask you a question, a Question only Hermione Granger would know?" He asked, staring at the door. He could hear her catch herself. She turned to look at him, to see if there was a joke she hadn't picked up on quite yet. She tilted her head, squaring herself with him, "Sure. So long as I can ask why." He knew that was a demand, not so much a question.

That look told him if he was wrong in his suspicions she would never let him hear the end of it. "What did I tell you when you asked George and I to come to the Hogs Head your fifth year?"

She fell back to the wall next to him, looking in the opposite view towards the lake, her eyes fixed on the hill. "You asked if I was trying to get you to buy me Fire Whiskey," she scoffed, although he thought he could hear a shadow a laugh in her words. "It was only after I said it was drinking to a Hogwarts without Umbridge you and George would listen to me."

That had to be one of his favorite memories of her. After the brothers had earned their lifetime ban from Quidditch, they spent a good share of time in either the Common Room or the trophy room on the seventh floor developing products they'd someday sell. One night after, when Ron and Hermione returned from their prefect rounds, Ron went to bed right when they got back. Harry hadn't returned from his detention with Umbridge yet, Hermione told him to go ahead and she'd wait up for Harry. His brother had disappeared upstairs when Hermione had set aside her bag and instead of settling into the chair she favored by the fire, she headed towards where they were working.

"O.W.L's driving you to drinking Hermione?" he had tutted, not even looking up from whatever it was he was working on. He set down his quill and turned to face her, "Take it from those with experience, you don't want to jump to Fire Whiskey—start on Some Maple Scotch or something like that, you'll feel like Christmas."

"And even then in small doses," George interrupted, "Less is more with that."

She had pursed her lips and he was convinced she'd soon march up the stairs and they'd be greeted the next morning with a red envelope from Mum. But instead she cast her eyes around the room and chose to stay, pulling up the chair between the two of them.

"We'll be drinking to a Hogwarts without Umbridge," she had whispered, "Why don't you put that in your Scotch and drink it. "

They had sat in a momentary silence, he and George. He looked at his brother who must have been a reflection of his own disbelief and then he looked at Hermione again. "Are you looking for an assassination Granger?" He asked, trying to read the determination that was carved in her face.

"I'm looking to making a difference," she said firmly, the fireplace reflecting in her eyes, "And I figured you would be too."

There was a moment, it seemed to him that year in particular, there was a moment when each of them had to realize what was coming, and determine where they would stand in the days to come. For Harry, it had come earlier, far earlier than when he came out of the maze with the cup and Cedric's body. For Percy, it was when he left the Burrow rather than leave his position. For Fred, and he assumed the rest of his family, it was still to come when his dad was nearly killed. But this was Hermione's moment. The Ministry had interfered with Hogwarts. The war was interfering with the education Hermione held most dear, and trying to sway it contrary to what Hermione believed in. This was her crossroads and he knew where she stood at that moment.

"Hogs Head this Saturday?" He asked, eyes level with her own.

She had smiled then, ever so faintly. She had smile and said "I'll see you at noon."

That smile was gone. Now, she had the same look on her face as Ginny did before she whipped out a jinx.

"So, tell me Fred, am I Hermione Granger?" she asked, her voice having an edge to it now as she pushed against the stone wall, "Or has Bellatrix Lestrange knicked one of my hairs and you're out here with a Death Eater?"

Ah if the question didn't reveal anything that just did—"Hermione, I just wanted to make sure—"

"Any reason in particular?"

You've been different since the Department of Mysteries—he could say. You seemed to know about Katie before it happened. You— I can't shake the thought of you—

Instead he looked at the letter, still in her hand. "McGonagall delivered that to George and I. Told us Dumbledore wanted us to run it to Remus," he answered in a hushed tone. "Didn't know who it was meant for herself, only that Remus would know and see that it got where it was supposed to be. He's coming over for the holidays, I'll make sure he gets it."

She didn't know that he would be running it to Remus tonight after they said good night. That this was probably one of the reasons Dumbledore allowed the twins to come back into the castle, to be human owls for the war effort. He didn't say any of that, but she seemed to be thinking ahead of him again. Hermione look of suspicion was turning to one of annoyance. "He meddles a bit, doesn't he?" She asked looking at him over the letter's top, "Dumbledore doesn't know what to do other than meddle."

There was almost an edge to her voice he hadn't remembered she had towards the Headmaster, "Suppose he does a bit. Nothing wrong with that," he said gingerly, looking over at her again, "Everything going ok?"

She looked at him hesitantly, as though she wanted so desperately to say what was in her head but was balancing the outcome. Instead, she looked away, shaking her head.

He kept his eyes on her, still unconvinced, "Is it about the book, you can tell me you know? I won't go blabbing to Ron."

A faint smile emerged from the moonlight, " The books helped," she answered, "I've been having nightmares, about the war," she said tentatively, as though she still wasn't sure what to let out of her mouth. "On and off since the accident. The book helps sort it all out. I can sort out the nightmares there."

"Mum used to say that in nightmares we pull the worse case scenario, that it's never as bad as we make it out to be," he tried to say in comfort, "We might not be able to make sense of it, but what ever it is we're facing its not near as bad as we imagined it."

The smile that had started died on Hermione's face. "But what if its not?" she sighed, "What if its worse? I—I've dreamt of Muggleborns being rounded up and sent to Azkaban. Of friends disappearing—" she looked at him, and he was met by the disturbing, mournful eyes of Hermione Granger. "Of people we know dying. Fred, what if it is worse than any of us have imagined?"

"We'll worry about that if it happens," He answered firmly. He had the strong urge to close the gap between the two of them. To hold her until the war was over and she could see he was right. "Enough of all of this Hermione. It's Christmas. We're on one of the tallest towers in Hogwarts, let's just enjoy this pocket of time shall we?"

He had hoped this would be carefree and natural as it had been earlier but her nightmares seemed to snuff out that wish like a candle. She was the first to say something, "It really is beautiful up here," she murmured, tucking her head towards his shoulder, a puff of air visible as she spoke.

Not the only beautiful thing—no Fred, damn it, no—"Should I be taking you back to the party? Your date is going to be out looking for you isn't he?" he asked, heaving out a sigh, "I promise, if he duels me to heal his pride, I'll take it easy on him."

"I came stag thank you very much," she insisted, and he could hear amused annoyance in her words, "What is it with men assuming I have to acquire one of you to have a decent evening."

Whatever feelings of snuffed out hope he had disappeared. It's ridiculous the influence this woman has on you Fred, a voice he recognized in his head as George badgered, you need Hermione to push you off this tower and back to your senses. " Good for you," his words fell before he could, "Ron still being an arse?"

"Always," she answered, " I just didn't want to go and have an evening where I have to make pleasant conversation with someone I don't care for. Besides," she threw her gaze his way again, "If I had brought a date, I wouldn't have been able to run off with you. For this tour of the castle," she blurted out.

"You could have, I'd just have to duel someone," he joked.

She tilted her head and asked, "Why does everything end with you dueling someone for me?"

"Because," He responded, not wanting to answer anymore then that. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

She had a sad smile on her face. The one he had come accustomed to over the holidays. "Are we playing that game again?" she asked as he opened the door to descend down the castle steps.

"I don't know what you're talking about Miss Granger," he answered smugly, "Just asking a question. Knut for your thoughts?"

"Save your money, lets get back to the party before they're missing us," Hermione said as they made their way down the tower.

"The Prefect and Prankster, the rumors that they'll start," he smirked and he could imagine her eye roll as they reached the corridor below. "They'll start rumors alright," Hermione answered, " Granger and Weasley—"

"The Good looking one," he interrupted, "There's six of us, you got to be specific."

She stopped in the moonlit corridor, and looked at him, as though she was thinking it over. "No," she said after a little moment, "the one with the big Head."

"The good looking big head though, right?" he asked and Hermione started laughing, "Come on, walk me back to the main staircases, I don't want to go back to the party."

He extended his arm, taking hers just as she had taken his when he had first arrived. "Tell you what, I'll walk you back to the Common Room, follow me Granger," he said, as they disappeared down the corridor.

((*))

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Aside from his momentary interrogation he had put her through on the top of the castle, she had been laughing all night. But since they had left the tower they hadn't talked about the war, instead he was telling her story after story of he and George loosing eye brows with explosions and how that had inspired the draw on mustache which would exhilarate hair growth of an evening.

"So when we come back from Christmas and all the sixth and seventh year boys have dapper mustaches-"

"A gift to all the ladies of Gryffindor tower, with love from the Weasley brothers," he winked, the two of them still laughing as they reached the portrait hole.

"Oh now you've come to say goodbye," The Fat-Lady started, staring down at the two of them. "Could've let me in on your plan to leave, I had to hear about it from that oaf of a knight."

Hermione gave him a look, "Should I leave you and the Fat Lady alone?"

"Oh please no," his words blurted out too quick for comfort, " Sorry about that—kind of spur of the moment that one." Fred turned to look at Hermione, " I probably shouldn't ask if I can see you inside."

"Probably a good idea," she smiled. "Besides, your brother might be seeing if he's lost his gum in Lavender's mouth again. I don't want you to put him in the hospital wing before Holiday starts. For your mum's sake."

She noticed a look of more than annoyance cross over Fred's face. "He's a bloody idiot; I suppose there isn't a chance you'll be swinging by the Burrow for the holidays."

The last time, she had chosen to avoid the Burrow and Ron based on her logic she'd send a storm of partridges to chase him up a tree if she was anywhere near him. It she was starting to talk to Ron more and more—he was trying to make an effort to try and talk to Hermione. She didn't know if he had done that before, maybe he had and she was too hurt to notice—

"Probably not," Hermione answered, "I cut my Christmas plans short last year with my family, Mum will put me in a muggle school if I do it again this year." That was a lie. She thought. Hoped? Would her parents still be trying to persuade her to stay in Essex like they had started to last Summer?

'"Well, let me know if you do need an escape. We can always use a hand at the shop this time of year," he started. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but was trying to think better of it.

"If I need an escape, I'll forward you my resume," she tried, and instead of turning to go into the tower, she wrapped her arms around him for an embrace.

His arms wrapped protectively around her, and she could feel them sway. He smelt of pine and a wash that couldn't quite mask the explosions from the shop. She could feel his heart beating under his shirt and she refused to believe they were numbered.

"Is this how it would have been?" he asked, warm breath tickling her ear, "If we hadn't been on each others case to grow up or laugh every moment I was in school?"

they swayed again and he laughed, "Maybe idiots run in the Weasley family."

She pulled away and shook her arms out of his jacket, " The Prefect and the Prankster, people would've talked too much."

He rolled his eyes, "We would've given them something to talk about."

"We would've," she answered, and for the slightest moment, she wondered what a friendship—or whatever it would have been—would have been like with Fred. She used to wonder, right after the war, what Fred's answers would have been around the kitchen table. She had gone so far to wondering what Fred would have said to her when she and Ron started dating. If he would have been like George, shaking his head and saying " You could've done so much better" or if he'd have said "About bloody time" like Lee.

Was this the kind of relationship she would have had with Fred, had he survived the war? A friendship, but almost richer? How many letters had she sent him since time had thrown her back? She had altered time to bring him to a Christmas party he otherwise wouldn't have attended.

Why Granger? What are you doing? The logical, practical, rule abiding Hermione seemed to badger in her head. You know what this means, don't you?

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek quickly. "Happy Christmas Fred," she said in one breath. "Gretna Green" she said with the same speed and disappeared into the Common Room before he could say anything else.

Because she didn't know quite well what she was doing, but she was starting to realize what it meant. And she was hoping, desperately hoping, that Fred wouldn't realize it at all.

((*))

She wasn't surprised when she woke up the next morning to find that she was the first one packed and ready for the train to depart.

Paravati and Lavender where still going through each others trunks, trying to find the right top or pair of muggle jeans to borrow for the holiday. Hermione folded her dress from the night before away and instead of offering earrings and dress coats to exchange for the coming weeks, she put on her purse and waved her wand as the small suitcase she needed for the holidays followed behind her.

She was surprised to see Harry already down there, his own small suitcase in hand. "Ron not down yet?" she asked looking up the stairs that led to the boys dormitory.

"Not yet," Harry answered, " He and Lavender were up late saying their good byes to one another," Harry explained, making a gagging noise at the end. "He was still up when you came back from the party right?"

"Didn't notice," Hermione shrugged, "I was so tired I ran straight to bed."

"Figured it was either running to bed or running away from Fred," Harry said evenly, before turning towards her with an all knowing smirk.

"Harry Potter—what on earth—"

"What's going on with you two? Really—be honest," he quipped, "I came back under the invisibility cloak, long story—"

"You were spying on me?" she asked, scandalized, her wand arm twitching. "How dare—"

"I only saw the good night!" Harry quipped, "You pecking his cheek and then running away while Fred just sort of stood there and looked amused."

The words caught her. He looked amused? What did that even mean?

Her reaction must have spoken more than she had, Harry shook his head and looked back to the stairs. " Listen—if you, you know—Fancy Fred, don't—just don't do it just to spite Ron."

"What did you just say?" Hermione asked, flipping her head to face Harry. "Are we really having this conversation right now Harry?"

Whenever Harry Potter got in a tight spot, he typically didn't realize it until after the fact. After he had pulled through and saved the day. She had always admired that about him. That he was fearless because, very rarely had he thought he ought to have been afraid.

This time, he was very much aware.

"I'm not saying anything to Ron—" Harry said motioning his head up stairs to the dorms. "Quite frankly, its none of his business and none of mine. "

"You got that right," she interrupted, "It is none of your concern—"

"Just—I don't know, be discreet until you want him to know about it." He finished. Hermione was wondering how it would look in the Prophet if Harry went from the Boy-Who-Lived to the Boy-Who-Died, courtesy of Hermione Granger.

"We were being discreet until some sneak started walking around under their invisibility cloak," Hermione snipped back.

"Well it was a good thing I was under that invisibility cloak, or else I wouldn't have overheard what I did," Harry muttered, turning to her again, "Hermione, have you ever heard of an unbreakable vow?"

((*))

They reached Kings Cross Station around three in the afternoon.

The scene she had witnessed last time was much more pronounced. There were some parents who had trunks of their own, waiting for their children to disembark so they could disappear forever. A common expression of worry was etched on the now stone faces of the people looking to the train windows, urgently searching for the face they had come for. There wasn't near as much chatter. Someone had decorated the platform for the holidays, but the garland and the tinsel all looked out of place amongst the stone faces and chilly glances.

Before, when she did the first time, she didn't go home for Christmas. Not this year. She had written to her parents and said that she needed to stay up at the school to prepare for her exams. It was a lie, but Mr and Mrs Granger didn't know that. Hermione had wanted to revel in a few glorious weeks where she was free to walk around the castle and not have to worry about walking into find Ron and Lavender twisted up with each other. It was selfish, but it was a way to avoid riding to Kings Cross and back with Ron. And she knew quite well Mrs Weasley would have invited her to the Burrow for part of the holiday. Staying at Hogwarts made the season less complicated.

She had regretted it a few days into the holiday. It wasn't as fulfilling as she had thought it'd be. Her regret only deepened when they were on the run. Spending Christmas in a tent, your parents not knowing you even existed—it hadn't churned happy memories. When Hermione had written her parents saying she would be coming home for Christmas, saying they were planning on spending the holiday in Newcastle. It wouldn't be a Christmas at home, but it would be Christmas with those that mattered. If inviting Fred and George to Slughorn's party hadn't changed anything, a Christmas with her parents in New Castle wouldn't change anything either.

Hermione could see her parents, standing shoulder to shoulder with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fleur and Bill. Mr. Weasley seemed to be talking with her father. Their faces where still out of place on the platform. She wondered how much they were picking up.

Mrs Weasley was taking her time to inquire if there were food shortages at Hogwarts and that's why they all looked thin.

"If they don't we should them how to knick things from the kitchen," a voice said behind her, "they're not starving. Except for a decent party perhaps."

She wiped her head around but was surprised to see George. Just George. Not Fred. Her face must have shown her surprise. He rolled his eyes and smirked, "Sorry, it's just me for company," he said, " You exhausted all your social time with Fred last night."

"Your right, I didn't bug you too much last night did I?" she responded folding her arms with feigned sympathy, "Did you have a good time at the party?"

"Now that you ask, I did have a good time. Met a few pompous slugs interested in investing and sucking our livelihoods, but I snuck half of a nosebleed nougat in one of their plates and that to care of that. Come to think of it that was right before Freddie came back, wonder if it ever stopped, " he winked, looking over her head to see the full family reunion.

"Fred keeping the store?" she asked, looking on the scene herself.

"Had to run something for the Order, but oyu know about that," George said, still looking on, "He said he'd meet us here but he must have been delayed."

An unexpected chill ran down her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake, "Must have been delayed. Maybe—"

Her father interrupted her, "Come on Hermione, we're going to miss our own train."

She looked at George and he slighted his head toward her parents, "I'll give him your regards. Have a Happy Christmas Hermione."

Mrs Weasley gave her hug as they stood in the queue to pass through the barrier. Her parents passed through first and there was a moment as she waited to follow that she hoped Fred would suddenly appear.

"Your turn Miss," the conductor smiled, nodding her to go through. Happy Christmas Fred, she thought before she too disappeared into the muggle world.

AN: Look! I actually updated somewhat regularly this week!

I had hoped I would have had matched my updates to the season...but we're probably two weeks or so behind. I'm going to try and do my best to get us back on track by February. Nothing's worse than Christmas in January...

Next Chapter: The Grangers are going to find that Newcastle is not the diversion they thought it would be and what exactly was the letter that Fred had for Remus? An unexpected guest finds their way to the shop on Diagon Alley and we find that what things were thought to be certain may be the least certain of all...

Thank you for all your love and support. I hope you are all having a safe and happy 2016. Until next time- KH