Falling Promises
"Come to the school at once. Bill's been attacked."
They made it to Hogsmede in record time. The Glow of the Patronus hadn't yet dissipated when the three of them made for the fireplace in the back room. Lee would stay at the shop to see if any more news came. George went first, then Fleur—followed in a moment by Fred.
The Three Broomsticks was already turning into a train station with people coming in and out, the same frantic fear in their faces, eyes darting every time the flames gave way to another worried face. Fred could recognize Rita Skeeter trying to get information out of poor Rosemerta who was being consoled by one of the townspeople, the quill scratching out a false sonata on the parchment as Rosemerta's neighbor shooed it away.
George was holding Fleurs hand, trying to steady her for what was to come in the next few hours. The terror that had hit her face when his dad's Patronus first arrived seemed to have fled as soon as it arrived—but Fred could notice traces that lingered. Her eyes were darker, the blue skies now turned by the summer's storm. They seemed unable to focus on anything longer than a minute. Fred had asked if she wanted to stay with Lee, but her expression said it was coming. There was no question of that. Bill was her fiance. They would be visiting the Veela Gardens of Versailles that weekend. Where she would marry Bill and become his wife. She was coming to remind her Bill of this promise and they would be leaving together.
"I wonder Rosemerta, can you confirm you saw the mark?" Fred stopped and turned around, nearly spinning on his heels. "What did you say?" he asked Rita who looked enthralled at someone who would actually speak to her.
"Ah! Did you see the Dark Mark? What time was it at? Did you see the body?"Rita launched, the quill making an about turn towards Fred. "We just got here—did you say The Dark Mark—"
"Over the Astronomy Tower, Yes, that's what they say," she looked over Fred again and seemed to realize there was no story from him. She turned back to pepper Rosemerta with a few new questions.
"Come to the school at once. Bill's been attacked."
The mark went off when someone died. Had his parents tried to soften the blow and tell them when they were together? When they were a family despite one of the sons falling?
Or was it someone else? Had another member of the Order died while defending Hogwarts? Or had it been a student?
Was it Hermione who been attacked?
His insides seemed to tense and he knew in that moment exactly how Fleur felt. There wasn't air he could breath. His lungs seemed to have closed and the air suddenly felt like it had been replaced with this thick, dense fog that was trying to trap him where he stood, his own personal dementor.
What if it was Hermione? She would have been in the thick of it, throwing curses left and right in a battle. She was Harry's friend, probably a best friend. A Muggleborn who had a bounty on her head just as much as Harry did.
"Come to the school at once. Bill's been attacked."
But Hermione could have been too.
"Fred, come on," George said, calling him back to reality. "Come on, they've sent a carriage."
The three of them got in the carriage in what must have been one of the most somber rides to the castle as the invisible horses plodded along. Fleur was sitting at full attention in regal beauty. As though this was all just an exercise in fortitude and she meant see it through with flying marks. Fred sat turning his attention to the front, trying to identify anything that would have disrupt the night sky. He couldn't see the mark, but whose to say it hadn't been there.
He was trying to imagine what would happen if Bill died. Fleur would probably return to France heartbroken without her Husband. He wondered if Mum would be gentle and love Fleur now in grief and also find comfort in knowing her son died before he could make what she considered the biggest mistake of his life. No, your mum's not that heartless. But both Mumand Fleur would be heart broken, there was no doubting that.
The dense fog in his lungs seemed to be crawling in his veins, setting a chill he couldn't shake. The mark—perhaps she—
If Hermione died—he tried to think what would ensue, but as soon as the thought came to his mind everything seemed to stop and hinge on those three words—if Hermione died.
Harry would clam up. He did that when their Dad almost died, he most certainly would do that if something happened to Hermione. He'd probably clam up so tightly it would only be with Dumbledore's help he would open up again, and even then for the rest of his life, he'd swear it was his fault that Hermione hadn't made it. Ron—he wasn't sure what their relationship was post Lavender, but he wouldn't be surprised if his idiot brother somehow blamed Harry—
Because Fred would.
Fred knew it wouldn't be Harry's direct fault if she died, but he would feel like it was. At first. The only reason she was there was because she was Harry's friend. And Harry had led her to the choice long ago, the choice of sitting on the sidelines or being in the fire, and Hermione loved to dance in the flames.
But if she was dead, there would be more than unanswered questions between her friends—especially when McGonagall made her way to Essex to tell Mr and Mrs Granger of their daughter's untimely death. In that moment when she knocked on the door and wasn't greeted by Mrs Granger, but a neighbor picking up her milk on the next house over's doorstep, asking her if McGonagall had bought the old Granger House.
"No, I was hoping to see Mrs Granger, I had news of Hermione's scholarship," she'd say, or some ridiculous lie like that.
"You best hire a PI—Mr and Mrs Granger moved months ago in the dead of the night," the neighbor would answer, before rambling about how she didn't know Hermione was still in the country, she assumed she had gone on with her parents.
Then, in that moment, McGonagall and the rest of them would know the lengths Hermione had gone to in order to keep her parents safe.
Everyone would find out that Hermione had modified her parent's memories and sent them away. Why else would no one come to take her body home to be buried? When did she do it? They'd ask. How long had she kept this a secret? Did she let anyone know what had caused her to take matters into her own hands?
And what would be kinder? To leave them be, or go and find Mr and Mrs Granger , restore their memories only to let them know their daughter-their brave, beautiful, fierce daughter- who loved them enough to send them away, had died because no one had been there to protect her?
What would happen to Hermione—would they bury her on a hill that guarded Hogwarts? Fred loved those hills, but the thought of being left there, always watching but never being at the school—with those she loved—he wouldn't let that happen. He'd take her home. Some place where she wouldn't be lonely. Somewhere her friends would be able to visit her. Somewhere where, in a future time, everyone would come to see her and say thank you for what she did. Somewhere she'd find rest.
But would they let you? What would they say? They don't even know you're a couple—
That was another thing that picked at his mind as they traveled to the school. What would happen if Hermione died and no one knew about them? That was selfish, Fred knew that. It was more What would happen to Fred if Hermione died than anything he had thought of yet, but the thought wouldn't leave him now.
He wouldn't be able to grief openly.
Not around everyone. George, Ginny—Bill if he was still alive—they would understand, but would other people believe them when they whispered excuses of "His Girlfriend was murdered—" "He and Hermione were together before she died—"
People would looked surprised, maybe taken aback and ask again, " Hermione Granger? And Fred Weasley? Where did you get that idea? Are you under a confounding charm?"
What would happen to his work after she died? He had been able to make jokes long before she had ever came to his attention. But she had been inspiration to his work on the radio, on the projects with George and Remus—surely if she died, that would be effected. He would be effected. His work would suffer. Maybe not long term but for a dangerous while. Would they be able to keep the shop running with one twin? Would he have to avoid the groups of people that would queue up to offer him empty condolences in the trite phrases of "She wouldn't want you to be like this...","You didn't know her long enough to have it mess you up this much...", "She'd want you to be happy...", "You doing ok Freddie?"
Would he find solace in the bottle? She'd hate him if he did —but she wouldn't be there to help him put together the new question of what do you do when you haven't been able to say good bye?
He didn't know when he had given her so much power over his life. He had felt like she was a breath of wind that seemed to stir him towards the imagined possibilities. But in this moment she seemed to be a tornado that threatened to rip his world apart and expose him to the real storm that surrounded them all. As the carriage reached the front doors, he was almost convinced the patronus had said "Come to the school at once, Hermione's been attacked."
But it hadn't.
It had said Bill had been attacked.
And now he was walking up the front steps, his arm around his Brother's Bride as George held her hand, still running scenarios where Hermione was at deaths door, not his older brother. The thought that Bill, who had been able to get out of scraps in Egypt, who wandered the old Vaults of Gringotts—the thought that he was in the Hospital Wing and not whistling a song off key with two broom sticks over his shoulder coming to get Fleur—he can't be dead. He refused to believe that.
"It's going to be ok Fleur, just you wait," George said in feigned optimism, "Bill was attacked by a booby trap in a tomb once, came out right as rain—might be double jointed every now and then but even that's not to bad."
"Oui," Fleur said still looking at the doors in front of her. Her french accent had gotten thicker since they left the shop. Her hands seemed to tighten around the brothers and it was becoming clear to him she was trying to find comfort in that as the unknown of what she'd find upstairs.
They creaked open the doors and found rubies scattered on the floor like drops of blood. A few Hufflepuffs had come as far as the doorway from the kitchens to the entryway to see what was going on, but their view was blocked by the ghosts who seemed to be chiding them to go back to their dormitories as a mysterious noise—a bird singing, if possible crying—outside echoed through the halls.
Nearly Headless Nick appeared at their side as they stood frozen in the trance.
"Ah—Weasleys, very good to see you, very good," Nick nodded, as though he was trying to put a brave face on for what tragedy had obviously unfolded, "Very good."
It was anything but Very Good.
"Hullo Nick, we need to get up to the Hospital Wing—" George started, still keeping a protective arm around Fleur.
"Yes, the Headmistress asked that I wait for you and your parents arrival," Nick said uneasily.
Headmistress—
"Hang on there Nick—Headmistress?" Fred asked, "Has Dumbledore taken to curling his beard?"
The painting behind the three of the burst into tears and the occupants fled to a friend three frames over. Nick had crossed himself when Fred said Dumbeldore's name.
Obviously, something was very wrong.
Fred stood straighter, and he looked at George over Fleur's head. Maybe his twin knew it before he did. It was becoming clear Bill was not the only victim of what happened tonight. And if what he thought had happened had actually happened, Bills injury wasn't the worst to have taken place.
"I regret to inform you that Headmaster Dumbledore has joined the pantheon of the ages this evening," Nick said his head wobbling to and fro as he snapped a bow. What little color had been in Fleurs face fled as she shuttered a "No" and leaned on the two brothers. He had to look down to make sure the floor was still there, he needed some logical explanation why it felt he was falling. "No—'e can't be—"
George was able to form his words first. "How—Nick, what happened, how did Dumbledore die?"
"That Cur Snape, he was a turn coat—he reverted to his past ways and killed the Headmaster atop the Tower," Nick spat, clouds forming under his cheeks in a ghostly rage.
The words seemed to echo in his head. He could hear them but they didn't seem to have any meaning. Fred had never cared for Snape. He was always the Professor that seemed to cooridnate detentions with Quidditch Practice. He knew quite well Harry thought he was evil and he supposed he was-but never had the thought crossed Fred's mind that Snape would actually- that he could actually-
Dumbledore is a better wizard how could he have-
"Snape—Snape killed Dumbledore?" George asked, his voice having a slight tremble to it, "Snape killed—"
"Nick can we go up to the hospital?" Fred interrupted, trying to pull them back. "Please, We know the way—Bill—we need to see—"
If Snape betrayed Dumbledore, whose to say he didn't let some of the students get it too? He never cared for any of their lot—
"Obviously. Your brother yes—and your other brother—and sister—Oh they're fine," he read the three panicked faces. What ever sense of comfort he hoped to offer was lost in his transparency."Don't worry their quite alright. As are the usual suspects. Yes—perhaps its best for the three of you to get up there—before—"
A gust of wind swept through the hall as the great oak doors suddenly swung open, revealing his parents amidst the darkness.
His mother seemed to have a mad look in her eyes. Like she wasn't to be questioned, she wasn't to be trifled with. One of her children was hurt and come hell or high water, Molly Weasley was going to take care of them best she could, God granting mercy on the fools that came between her and her child.
Nick turned around after steadying himself from the wind. "Ah—young Miss Prewett—"
His mother didn't acknowledge Nick. She saw the three of them and Fred could see her relax ever so slightly, a momentary reprieve. Although a second glance at Fleur made seemed to have killed that reprieve almost as soon as it had been granted and she marched through Nick and up the door.
"Come along you three—upstairs," his father said, his voice heavy. His mum already eight paces in front of them.
The four of them filed in tow behind her, trying to catch up. "Dad, what happened?" George asked as they headed to the stairs and started climbing the array of switchbacks that lead to the Hospital Wing. "We heard that—"
"Your mother and I had just gone to bed when we got Minerva's Patronus," he said, swearing as he failed to skip the invisible step. As Fred paused to help him up him up, Fleur took advantage of neither Fred or George supporting her and seemed now to be racing after Mum in an attempt to get to the Infirmary before her.
"And nothing other than Bill had been attacked?" Fred asked, "Didn't say what happened—didn't say" That Dumbledore's dead? That there had been a murder? That Snape had killed Dumbledore?
"She said that we were at Hogwarts, so I've told your mother it means it can't be to bad. Anything serious would be meeting at St Mungos."
"How did she take that?" George asked with a shadow of a smirk as he glanced back to Fred.
"She proceeded to list every time anyone in the Weasley or Potter house has ended up in the Hospital Wing. Apparently it's more frequent a destination than I remember it being when I was a student." Dad said, shaking his head, exhaustion visible in every line of his face. "I hope Dumbledore can fix this—what ever it is, if any man can set it right it's him."
"Dad—people were saying there had been an accident—that Dumbledore's dead," Fred said, trying to gauge a response from his father. "They're saying that S—"
Dad just shook his head more vigorously, " Rita Skeeter was going on about that when we Floo'd into the Three Broomsticks. I think it's just a story. Way I see it, we'd know if Albus was gone. We'd have to know. Wise man like him would have had something trigger if he'd had left, something to let us know first—to prepare—"
George turned and looked at Fred, and Fred looked at the back of his dad's head. Was it possible? Was this all a rouse and Dumbledore would be waiting in the infirmary? Maybe Nick was wrong—
The stairs to the infirmary were ever closer. They were almost to the landing now, but Fred was still at a loss of what, or who they'd find once they got there. Best case scenario, they'd go in and see Bill, Dumbledore would be there to fix them all while Snape handed off a Healing Potion to Madam Pomfrey. He'd see Hermione right as rain, he'd come close to putting Ron back in the Infirmary if he made any objection to him kissing Hermione and that would be the end of it.
But it wasn't.
His Mother and Fleur had just passed through the door when the three of them finally caught up. He could see Neville Longbottom passed out, a bandage around his head and a cut below his eye. Lupin, Tonks and Luna had their backs to them, creating a wall that blocked them from the body on the last bed on the left.
But for a moment, that didn't matter because, sandwiched between Ron and Ginny, her hair disheveled , he could see her.
She was alright. He couldn't see anything on her that would suggest the otherwise. Except her face. It was ghostly white. Her expressions sharp. Her eyes cold—not empty, but in a state of terror. As though she was going through her own personal hell in that moment.
"Oh Bill—" his mother cried, reaching the foot of the bed, her hands flying to her mouth as Fleur looked on, her eyes wide but her face not betraying any thought or inclination to run away.
"Who—who did this to him?" his father asked as Fred scanned Bills face. It was red, raw, with signs of Madam Pomfrey's quick wand work trying to seal some of the scars. Although, Fred noted, it looked like the scars didn't want to be sealed. It was like a zipper that had come together but was longing to burst apart again.
"It was Greyback, Arthur," Professor McGonagall said, clutching the bed post that seemed to be the only thing supporting her on this hellish evening, "We found him in the corridor adjacent to the tower. They got him as they ascended the tower."
" Greyback attacked him?" his father's voice croaked, turning to Professor McGonagall, "But he hadn't transformed? It—It's not the full moon, I looked when we rode up to the castle. What does that mean?" he turned from Professor McGonagall to his son. "—What will happen to Bill?"
"We don't know yet," Professor McGonagall said weakly, looking to Lupin the same way Professors looked to Hermione when no one was answering questions.
"There will be some contamination Arthur," Lupin sighed, giving McGonagall a reprieve. "Its an odd case, possibly unique—we don't' know what his behaviours might be when he wakes up. He could be—" he paused trying to find the word less likely to give his parents, "—different."
His mother had somehow taken the vile smelling ointment Madam Pomfrey had been applying to Bill's face. "And Dumbledore? Minerva—is it true—is he really?"
The guard at Bills bed all seemed answer the question for McGonagall. Ron and Ginny looked to Harry. Harry lifted his head and looked at Mr Weasley. Hermione looked to Fred and nodded her head, her eyes brimming with tears.
He knew what her patronus would have said. Come to the castle at once. Dumbledore's Dead.
"Dumbledore's gone," his father whispered. "He's gone and we—" Fred didn't know what his father meant to say. He looked down at his son in the bed and all confidence he had earlier that Dumbledore would be able to set this right—it was all gone. And he was left with himself doing a quick inventory of his families needs and how he could try and fix this.
" How did this happen? Who—"
"Snape did it," Harry said. Fred noticed this was the first time he had said anything, and soon he was launching into a story about leaving the castle with Dumbledore to search for something only to return and find Death Eaters climbing up the tower and the disarmed Dumbledore falling to the grounds below at the hand of Severus Snape.
With each turn in the story, Fred turned to look at Hermione, to see if he could register where she was in the story. Her eyes looked tired, but her hands and arms were clean, unlike Ron and Neville who looked like they had been closer to the fighting. They must have already discussed this with Remus and McGonagall, as both of them seemed to wander in the second retelling. Fred noticed how Remus' seemed to keep his eyes on Bill while Fred couldn't help but notice Tonks' eyes hadn't left Remus' face.
As Harry's story came to an end, Bill moaned in his bed. His mother started to hush them, and cradling Bill's pillow she began to administer the salve again, moping out the rivers carved on her son's face. Her hand slipped and she nearly shoved Bill in the face. This seemed to have been the final straw for his mother who started to cry, "It doesn't matter how he looks… It's not really that important—"
If it had been a different occasion, Fred might have leaned over to Ron and say something like "That's what mum said the day you were born" but he held it back.
"But he was a very handsome little b-boy, always very handsome, and he was going to be married!" his mother said, as if it was an after thought.
Fleur had finally found her words.
"And what do you mean by zat?" Fleur asked, snapping out of her fright and looking at Mum as though the rest of them weren't in the room. "What do you mean, 'e was going to be married."
Fred's eyes darted from Hermione to George with rising alarm. Maybe there would be a fatality in the Weasley clan tonight after all.
His mother stopped her nursing and gave Fleur the same dirty look she had given his dad. "Well—I just supposed—"
"Do you 'onestly theenk, because of these bites, these scars—," Fleur looked down on them briefly and then turned away, "Do you think these will make it where Bill will not love me?"
His mother look startled, "You heard Remus. Bill is going to be different now—I don't know if—"
"He will not be different to me," she shrilled. Fred was again reminded of the Veelas he saw at the World Cup all those years ago, when they had been cheering for Bulgaria and the mood grew dim. She was great and terrible. And she wasn't done yet. "It will take more zan being a werewolf for Bill to stop loving me!"
Fred noticed a smile starting to curl on Hermione's lips. He wondered if she had gone mad too or perhaps Dumbledore's death had changed her inclinations towards homicide, as the look on George and his father's face was one preparing for the next death to occur.
"Yes I'm sure—but dear," his mother continued on, regaining some of her lost composure she stood taller, hoping to regain some of her lost ground, "Given how he looks I just meant—"
"You though I would not weesh to marry him?" Fleur asked coldy, her voice dripping with new found rage, "Or pe'rehaps you 'oped? What do I care how 'e looks? I am good looking enough for both of us," she said firmly and triumphant. "All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! Zhat 'e is a 'ero" Fleurs eyes darted to the cloth in Molly's hand, "Let me zee zhat. I am his wife. I will take care of him." and she defiantly took the ointment from his mother's hand.
Fred could feel George shift, as though he was thinking the same thing Fred was: someone needed to get between their mum and Fleur. But what happened next surprised them both. Mum stood behind Fleur and gently put her hand on her shoulder. As if she too was unsure of what she was doing as well.
"I'm not sure if Bill told you about my Auntie Muriel—she's has a beautiful goblin made tiara. I'm sure I could persuade her to lend it to you for the wedding. She's quite fond of Bill—it would look lovely with your hair."
"Thank you," Fleur replied, the steal of her voice starting to slip. She stopped dabbing Bill's forehead and looked at his mother, "I am sure zat will be lovely."
She choked on the last word and before anyone in the room could explain it, his mum was hugging Fleur like she was Ginny, or any of them. He turned an eye to Hermione who seemed the least surprised of all in the room. That was unexpected—but what happened next was even more unexpected—
"You see, it doesn't matter!" Tonks said, looking up at Lupin while everyone who had been watching Mum and Fleur now looked up in surprise. All expect Hermione—
"He's been bitten but she still wants to marry him. She still loves him Remus!"
Fred went back to Christmas when he had delivered his first letter to Remus. Tonks had been there. He was sure there were other times when Tonks had shown up or been brought up—he had always thought it had been in passing but maybe, just maybe there was something else to it.
And obviously there was.
Remus was stone like with all the attention on him as he told Tonks it was different. That Bill wouldn't be a werewolf. That he'd still have a means to support Fleur, where as he was too old, too poor, too dangerous—
He registered the people surrounding Bill, their expressions and their words. George was playing Tonks' advocate. Ginny and Ron were again exchanging glances as Harry looked like this was the first time a secret romance had been discovered.
But again, Hermione's reaction hadn't been phased. And wasn't as Hagrid came in, sniffling and telling McGonagall the Headmaster's Body had been moved, and that the Ministry was on its way.
You only have this window. Go now, he told himself. "Should we get these ones back to Gryffindor Tower before the Ministry gets here? Scrimgeour's no Fudge, but I wouldn't be surprised if they get pulled in for an interrogation," Fred asked.
"Longbottom will need to stay. But he's right—the rest of you ought to head back to your Dormitory—expect you Potter, I'd like a word before you turn in for the night." McGonagall said. She turned her attentions to his parents, " Molly, Arthur, you and your family can stay here tonight if you'd like. Or I have the cottage in Hogsmead if you'd like something more long term. I'll come back here after I meet with the Ministry."
His father nodded, as he hugged Ginny. "Fred, you and George good to take them?"
"We live there Mum. Ginny, Hermione and I can go ourselves," Ron started, his ears starting to deepen in their embarrassed hues.
"Mind your Mother Ron," Dad quipped. It looked as though he had aged ten years in the last hour. "We need to be on guard. We—"
"Come on Ron, lets go you can do your ickle Prefect short cuts," George interrupted before their father could launch on what Post-Dumbledore security entailed. Fred noticed his twin wink as he steered his brother towards the door, Ginny quickly coming to the spot next to Ron's side. As they shuffled into the corridor and down the stairs, Fred could hear Ron complain about how Hermione would know the Prefect short cuts better than him and perhaps she could come up and lead the way.
"Prefects don't have short cuts, you're going the right way," Hermione said from the back next to Fred, waiting for Ron to turn around.
Once Ron's back was turned, Fred felt her hand slip into his and their foot steps slowed, creating a distance between them and the other three Weasleys.
"Are you ok?" Fred whispered, squeezing her hand as though he needed to make sure she was really there. "When we got Dad's patronus I knew Bill had been attacked but I started to worry about you and—"
She gripped his hand now with all she had and Fred slowed his pace again. There was an empty classroom coming up. He remained quite until they reached it, the others already turning the corner.
The air was stale. There wasn't a full moon out, but the moon beams were leaking through the window giving a dim outline of their surroundings. With a wave of his wand, fireflies flew up like stars above them.
In any other situation, this would be exciting. The two of them sneaking around the castle, tucked a way in an abandoned class room. Fireflies mimicking he outdoors where he'd rather they be.
But Dumbledore was dead. Snape had killed Dumbledore. And Hermione was holding together by the skin of her teeth. He could see that now. Whatever farce she had held in the Hospital it was gone. The tears had started to fall and she kept trying to wipe them away discreetly.
"Let me ask you again, this time properly," he stood in front of her, looking over her face again to see if there was something he had missed. He couldn't see anything physically wrong. Snape hadn't laid a hand of her, neither had the Death Eaters that had come in. Her face was still smooth, not carved beyond recognition like his brothers. In that moment, she never before seemed more beautiful to him.
"Are you o—" She flung her arms around him before he could finish the thought and started to sob, deep, wrenching, uncharacteristic to Hermione sobs. Worse than when she had sent away her parents. He stood there, leaning against the teacher's desk and holding her close, rubbing circles along her back like he had seen his mother due just moments earlier to Fleur. "There—it's ok—it's alright," he whispered into her hair.
"But it's not," Hermione cried, pulling away from his shoulder and looking up at Fred, her face was far from smooth now, instead twisted with hot, angry tears. "Its not alright—things will never be the same—it's going to be different. Everything's going to be different. Everything is different."
"Not everything is going to be different,"Fred said tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "I've got you," he said, rocking them back and forth. "And you've got me," He said with a timid smile, "I can't promise everything will be ok, but you've got me. And I won't let anything happen to you Hermione," he promised, kissing the top of her head.
In most situations that might have worked, but this made her cry harder. And Fred tucked her under his arm and pulled her close to let her cry into the shirt. A cascade of warm tears settling on his heart.
AN:
First off, I was afraid my computer crashed this morning which is the reason for a mid week update.
Secondly a disclaimer: a good chunk of Mrs Weasley and Fleur is taken straight from HBP. Didn't want to rob Fleur of that moment.
Third, I know, I said only one more chapter at Hogwarts last time. And here we are...
When I originally sat down to write this chapter, I had my outline and a plan. And then I hit Fred's Stream of Consciousness...which trust me, was cut down quite a bit between the original rewrite and the cutting room floor. I just had this moment where I wondered: What do you do if you find out the person you love most in the world is dead? and I started having a panic attack for the poor man...a very long drawn out, but exhilarating to think of panic attack which I enjoyed writing. I feel like I got to know Fred that much more...
Also, this chapter is entirely Fred's POV so you know what that means...
Next Chapter (which really is part two of this. It was nearly 12k words and I couldn't do that...) will be a lot more Hermione POV. And what we've noticed in Fred and Hermione's relationship, Fred takes a step forward, Hermione takes two back. Now that her sole confidant is gone, Hermione has to transition from who she is to who she used to be: War Weathered, Battle Ready Hermione. She also will be reviewing her fixed points, what she's done, and how long Fred can fit in to the road she must now follow.
Buckle up kiddos, next chapter we're leaving Hogwarts and we're not going to be coming back until the walls come falling down.
Be kind to one another. Next chapter will be up soon.
Xx-KH