D:I know I said November, but its 38 years to the day Harry beat Volds the first time so naturally that's cause for an update. Notes at the end. Prepare yourselves for the reunion.
If I could turn back the clock,
I'd make sure the light defeated the dark
I'd spend every hour, of every day
Keeping you safe
Hermione had gone to the Hospital Wing three times when they were in school together.
Well, at least three substantial times, the three of them seemed to have a constant rotation for Madam Pomfrey visits. There was the first time in her second year where someone had spiked her Eggnog and she had turned into a cat for a fortnight. He and George had called her Kitten for the rest of the winter, only stopping when Ginny made a reference to Hermione's nails still being claw like. They hadn't believed her, but they didn't want to give her a chance to prove them wrong.
The next time had been shortly after the claw incident when she had been petrified. They found out when Ron came back from visiting with McGonagall. They had all gone up to see her, the entire Quidditch team. Fred was convinced it was because Wood wanted to will her into waking up so they could continue with the match. McGonagall had found out and thrown him in detention before sending the team back with a warning not to leave the Common Room outside of classes.
He had remembered how small she looked. Her eyes wide open, an arm out reached to the ceiling as though she was tracing the pattern above. He tried to keep a closer eye on Ginny after that. It was disturbing enough to have Hermione with her large glass eyes awake and watching nothing, he didn't want to see Ginny like that.
And then there had been two years now—almost two years—when his Father had sent a warning that the kids weren't fine, that there had been an accident.
An accident, Fred would later learn, that was a rescue mission that had nearly cost him his world—course he hadn't known that then.
When she had woken up that time, she was so different. He had began seeing her so differently too. Not all at once. She was still Hermione, insisting he had gotten the year wrong, that it really was 1999 and he was lost in the past.
But even then, when he saw her in that hospital bed, she was still in control of the situation. She had been injured but if she could have seen Dolohov in that moment he would have been worse off. Because no one could break Hermione Granger.
Well at least not her spirit, a voice chided him in his head as he looked around the wind swept beach behind Shell Cottage. We know of at least one person whose broken her heart.
He knew Bill's place had been put under the Fidelius Charm. So he had apparated to the beach below in the hopes someone from the house would come down to fetch him. He looked to the cliff where he knew it should be and began waving his arms, calling out in the windy gales, all while his heart raced on a hummingbird's wings.
He could see an outline rushing down to him, and he raced to meet them. It was Fleur, her hair swept up in a knot and what looked like dark stains on her apron illuminated in the moonlight.
"You're 'ere," she breathed out, wrapping him tightly in a hug, kissing his cheek. "Thank God your 'ere—I didn't know if I should call for you but if it was me—"
She didn't finish her sentence, she searched his face and turned back to the house, shoving him a scrap of parchment.
"Read this, for the house," she said as he glanced down at his brothers sloppy hand, he could make out "Shell Cottage" and "hilltop" which seemed to be enough for the stone structure to appear over Fleur's shoulder.
She took his hand and they traveled up the rest of the path from the sea to the house. "There's so much to say—'ow to say it?" She said as the reached the top. She stood between him and the door, "a couple things before we go in mon cher."
Fred tried to look over her shoulder to make out the shapes in the dark windows. "Fred listen to me!" She commanded again, her hands gripping his shoulder. "Hermione got picked up by snatchers tonight—they all did. And they took them to the Malfoys rather than the Ministry."
He only caught a few other words from that, they had separated her from the boys and Bellatrix LeStrange had tortured her.
He didn't know how his heart was still there. It was still pounding, it hadn't stopped, he could hear every beat and it was racing.
He knew of other people Bellatrix had tortured, and they rarely faired well.
He was going to kill her.
"Is she— is Hermione alright in the head" he asked. How was he still standing? How had his knees not buckled to the earth yet? Something in him had dropped, but somehow he was still standing?
Fleur's face looked like a broken heart, she shrugged shaking her head and wiping a stray tear. "She was unconscious when they brought her here. I've done the best I can but we won't know until she wakes up."
"But she will wake up?" He asked looking up stairs to the bedroom window, "I mean, she's Hermione—Fleur, she's tough as nails—-she's a fighter, she wouldn't—"
She wouldn't leave me, he wanted to say. That was his job, he'd leave her but she'd never leave him. Not like this. She wouldn't leave him alone this close to the end knowing what he did. She needs to be there to watch him, to pull him back before he did something rash.
"I need to see her," he said taking a step to the house, but Fleur jumped to block his way.
"Fleur, out of the way—" he growled, making another attempt.
"Oi, you be nice to her," a phantom voice said from the darkness of the door way, "she's brought me back from the dead she has, show her some respect will you?"
Fred's whole body stiffened and he felt his heart finally stop.
Lee Jordan took a step out of the doorway. He was leaning heavily on a cane. A nasty cut outlining his face from his left brow to his jaw line.
But he was standing there, alive.
And that was the moment that Fred's knees gave out and his vision cut black.
((*))
He came to on the back step. Bill was helping him up, Fleur was saying something about clearing a way to the couch and the ghost of Lee said perhaps he shouldn't see Hermione quite yet if this was how he was going to act, fainting, like a first year.
"I'm alright," he slurred, trying to snap to attention, "I'm alright," he repeated and focused his eyes more, looking towards Lee. "And you're alright?"
Lee stepped towards him and both clasped each other around the shoulders. Emotions were leaking from his eyes, damn traitors. He had thought the next time he'd see Lee they'd be reunited in death. He didn't know if ghosts could hold each other. But here they were. He was alive. You didn't kill Lee—he thought, the months of guilt rolling off his shoulders.
But he held on to some. In the lamp light, Lee's face was a twist of shadows. Not as severe as Bill's had been post Greyback, but there was a lingering sense of black magic that made Fred think there may always be a scar on his face.
"I'm alright," said Lee softly, " we all are. And she will be too."
Fred let go of his friend, looking at him with begging eyes, "Lee what happened? Fleur said—"
"Go with what Fleur said. They brought those three in and sent Harry and Ron down to the cellar with me but tortured Hermione upstairs," Lee put an arm on Fred. "Thought it might soften the blow if you saw a friendly face first, even if it was a ghost face."
"Where's everyone else? Where are the boys?" Fred asked, turning to Bill who was standing quietly next to Fleur.
"Ollivander and the goblin—Griphook—they're upstairs for now having a lie down," Bill said nodding his head towards the ceiling. "Ron, Harry and Luna are in the downstairs study for now, talking with Dobby. I told them to try and get some sleep but I think they're still running on adrenaline, they'll crash soon."
"Come on, let's go see the missus," Lee said turning to the house and taking a step but sharply limping, swaying to the left and nearly hitting the door way.
Fred rushes forward, "I can see what they did to your face, what the hell else is wrong with you?"
He snaked an arm around Lee's shoulder and lifted him up, trying to steer him inside to the couch in the sitting room.
"Dagger in the ass," He said, gritting the words through his teeth, "Fleur if it's alright with you I'll have that dreamless sleep draft you were talking about."
Fleur darted off to the kitchen while Bill came to Lee's other side and the two brothers helped Lee fall to the couch so he'd be lying on his stomach.
"You should have taken that draft the moment you got here," Fred chided, sitting at his friend's side.
"Should've done a lot of things," Lee sighed sitting up slightly to take the glass Fleur brought. "Should've kept the disillusionment charm on until we had made it to the house—should've been in front of Penelope when we were walking in—should've been ready to kill when they appeared—"
"Lee—"
"I heard Fleur tell Bill she'd called for you," Lee said, downing the contents of his glass and setting it down, " and I wanted to see you first—to show you people do make it back from the dead. No matter how bad Hermione is right now, she's going to make it back too."
Lee fell back into the pillow, the draft working quickly. "This is going to make George's day learning your back from the dead," Fred said with a phantom smile "Angelina might even be jealous of the change in attention." He was trying not to think of the picture Lee had painted, of Hermione somewhere between life and death. He tried to think of the smiles to be shown and the laughter that would ring out. Not if the darkness that crept down the stairs.
He jumbled our something incoherent and Fred realized that he was asleep. He turned his attention to Bill and Fleur who stood guard in the doorway, "is he going to be alright?"
"I zink there could be a blood curse on zee dagger," Fleur said, looking at Lee's upper leg. "He needs to go to St Mungos and make sure he's clear," Bill finished, "But that's the catch. The Ministry knows Lee Jordan should be dead, or that he's been imprisoned with the Malfoys—as soon as we can get some fake identity papers we'll get him moved."
"He should go to St. Françios in Bordeaux," Fleur chided, "it could take weeks to get papers. If it's a blood curse, and one from Bellatrix—"
"I'll do the papers," Fred said quickly, "or something. I'll get Lee out of this. I'm the one who got him here."
"Now Fred—" Bill started.
"Can I see her now?" He cut off, looking at the two of them. "Can I see Hermione?"
Bill looked at Fleur who nodded to Fred with a gentle smile, reaching for his hand "Follow me."
They went up the stairs. The cottage was smaller up here. Her and Bills bedroom on one wall with a bedroom neighboring on one side, a bathroom, small sitting room and bedroom opposite them. Fleur walked him to the one across the hall from the master. Her hand gingerly resting on the door knob.
"I changed 'er into an old dressing gown, she wasn't awake then—if she wakes up, there's a dreamless sleep draft she can take, it'll 'elp with the nightmares," Fleur said softly, her eyes turning to Fred. "She might not wake up, let her sleep. She needs it."
She turned the knob and gave the door a gentle push, but stopped herself from clearing the way. She reached for the door and pulled it closed again.
"Fleur—"
His sister closed her eyes tightly and sighed, "You should know—she branded her," she said as though the words were foul.
Which they where. He knew they were. But they didn't make any sense.
"Bellatrix," she swore, "she carved zhat word into 'ermione's arm, Mudblood."
It didn't make sense what she was saying. Had Bellatrix subdued Hermione and somehow tattooed the word like a Dark Mark on her skin?
"What—"
"I've used half my bottle of Dittany, but it hasn't done anything—that's why I think there's a curse on the dagger, where wounds will never heal right," Fleur explained rapidly.
"Will I see it when I go in?" He asked, trying to gage if he needed to guard his emotions from her. He was going to kill Bellatrix, she should know that, he wouldn't tell her least she thought he was bent on a suicide mission—but she'd have to know he wouldn't rest now until Bellatrix was dead under his wand.
"I wrapped her arm in a bandage, a Veela cloth we use to fight scarring. You won't see it," she explained, her hand gently touching his arm, "Hermione is going to be facing her own devils for a long while after this is done. I wanted you to know so she won't fight them alone," she squeezed his arm affectionately and kissed his cheek, "Bonne nuit mon frère" she whispered, stepping away from the door and letting Fred make his way inside.
Fred took a step in the familiar room. When they were kids, Muriel had suggested Mum take them on a seaside holiday and to use the cottage. This had been Ginny's room. It's window was a jar, the sound of the turbulent surf crashing on the beach below. A slight breeze playing with the lace curtains like he would have played with Hermione's hair in Majorca.
The furniture was simple. A small wardrobe made for summer vacations, a night stand with a porcelain wash basin and a bed that had always seemed too big for Ginny, another nightstand opposite with an extinguished oil lamp and a waiting goblet of dreamless sleep potion. Blue and white porcelain bed knobs standing tall against the brass of the footboard.
He carefully walked over to the bed, creeping in his socks on the floor boards in the hope he wouldn't wake her. When he saw her he realized she looked like she had her second year in the hospital wing. Swallowed by something much bigger than she.
She laid on her back, the white eyelet duvet pulled to her elbows which rested on the covering. Fleurs nighty looked as though it was a spare of Muriel's from younger days. Light blue that reached across her neck, a border of frilly lace on the edging. The loose cloth flowing down her arms just past the elbows too echoed lace and glamour of yesteryear. .
He carefully sat down on the bed next to her. She looked very much like she had in the mirror, her hair a mess of curls that fell just above her shoulders. Her face was skinner though. He knew she had packed food for a small army, he doubted she was small from hunger but wondered how much stress and anxiety she had allowed to run havoc on her body.
His eyes slowly moved down her face. No carving that would make her the third member of Lee and Bill's disfigured hero's club. There was still the constellation of sun kissed freckles from happier days lingering on her nose. Her lip looked raw—he wondered if it had been busted and some of Bill's desert magic was obediently at work.
Then he saw a thin white bandage against her throat, nearly hidden behind the lace. The scar was longer than it was wide. His hand reaches out, a finger hovering over as he traced it down.
Oh Sunny, he thought, his heart breaking, what have they done to you?
He looked at her arm, the one Fleur was so desperately trying to minister to. He leaned over her, his hand gently tracing the wrap, his thumb brushing against it.
I'll kill her for this Hermione, he swore, she'll never hurt you again. She'll never haunt your nightmares. I'm here, and she won't be.
He didn't notice, at least not right away, the faint grasp of a hand against his arm. He was so wrapped up in his plans of revenge, he had hardly missed the slight squeeze as it clasped him, tethering it to him.
"Are you really here?" She asked, her voice a hoarse whisper, "Or am I dreaming you here again?"
His hand abandoned her wound and instead he clasped her arm with both his hands, swallowing it completely in his embrace. "I'm here sunshine," he said, his voice catching, a hand abandoning hers to touch her hair, to kiss her head, to take her all in, the faintest traces of lilac in her hair.
Her hand clenched as he kept kissing her, moving from her head to her cheek. He pulled away, hand resting against her head before falling to her shoulder. "Are you alright? Is this alright?" He asked. He hadn't thought she wouldn't want to see him. Perhaps he had misunderstood her patronus. Perhaps she wanted to stay apart.
"It's fine," she said wincing, " I just hurt. I hurt all over."
Fred nearly jumped away, a good six inches or so a way. She shot him a look, "I said I hurt. I didn't say to stop holding me."
He chuckled to himself, and she tried to laugh as he reached for her slender fingers again, lacing them on his own. "You've literally spent the night in hell and here you are chastising me already?"
The faintest shadow of a smile crossed her face, "Someone ought to, figured it should be me."
He laughed again, bringing their fingers up to his lips kissing them. "You're a live. That's more than I could have hoped for after your patronus."
"I'm sorry I worried you," she whispered, squeezing his hand with all her might—which amounted to little in her state, "I knew the odds were in our favor but I wasn't sure if our meddling had tipped the table any."
He reached for her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as fingers flickered through her hair, "You knew this would happen?" He asked, his voice ghastly, "You knew you'd be tortured and you went through with it anyway?"
Fred had to keep his voice in a whisper, any louder and she'd catch the accusation that lingered like a shadow, "Hermione, you could have died—do you know what that would have done to the boys? To me?" There, his voice betrayed him. It didn't crack but it seemed to be caught as though blocking any other words from coming.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. Her fingers wrapping more tightly in his. "Everything we've done since we parted has been for the war, right?" She asked, "Potterwatch, the Passports—traveling with Harry—"
She gingerly lifted her injured arm, wincing as she did. She motioned as though she was reaching for his face and he stopped low, resting it on her belly to make it easier, her hand resting on his head. "We had to go, Harry had to get Draco's wand. That's part of the key. And Bellatrix thinking we were in her vault, that was part of the key too."
"What were you thinking," he asked, watching her lips curl in a smile at his words.
"That I've missed those words," she said, her fingers brushing the hair above his forehead, "That I've missed these hands. That I've missed you."
He reached for her hand in his hair and kissed them. First the hand and then the fingers, "Even if I've been an ass?"
She chuckled, wincing at the start, "you haven't been alone in that title. I think we both have."
"I've been a bigger one, I can promise you that," he said, gently squeezing her hand. The sins of the last six months—last ten months—bubbling to a boil. "Hermione, I nearly killed Lee. He went out for a recovery mission—it should have been me—it was supposed to be me—"
"I know," she said, her eyes soft, "I heard on Potterwatch, I'm so sorry Fred—I know it's not funny, but I felt he was there tonight. I passed out before the boys came in but I could have sworn I heard him when the doors opened."
"Oh you did," he said quickly, "Sorry, Lee's alive. He was down in the cellar with Luna."
She blinked confusion at first and then a smile, "Then why are there tears in your eyes? Lee's home, he's safe. He's alright."
"He is, but thanks to you lot, not me," he said, "If I had listened to you about meddling with time—"
"You wouldn't be my Fred if you hadn't gone in wands blazing trying to make a better world,"she said with a smile, her thumb brushing their fingers. "Lee's safe. Fleur's making me better, we're going to be alright."
"And we?" He asked, letting go of her hand to flex his finger between the two of them. Her face looked most reminiscent as it had on better days. She reached for his hand to hold it again, "yes. We're going to be alright too."
He grinned, squeezing her hand and scooting back. He took out his wand and conjured a chair next to her bed, "I should let you get some sleep, Fleur will have my head if I keep you up." He reached for the glass by the bed, "this should help you sleep."
She took it gratefully and downed the contents,handing it back to Fred. She then looked past him at the chair, "I'd bet my wand you haven't slept either."
"Don't need sleep, it's this new super power I've developed since you saw me last," he tried setting the glass down. She gave him a look and squeezed his hand. The potion was already beginning to work."Stay with me," she said,scooting on the bed to make room for him.
"You should get rest," he said, reluctantly laying down. He'd get up once she was asleep, he told himself, he could keep just as careful a watch from his chair as he could right here beside her...
"I will, but you won't in that chair," she yawned, before again saying, "stay with me?"
If someone had told him when he opened the shop yesterday morning he would end the day laying beside Hermione, reconciled, he'd have had a good laugh and thrown them from premises. If they had told him he'd only see her after she had been tortured he'd probably have magically removed a limb before throwing them out.
But the waves crashing outside, Hermione's breaths lifting her chest up and down, her hand still enveloped in his—she was home. She had paid a price too high, gone through a hell he'd never wish upon anyone, but she was home, back with him.
If she's willing to go through this for the greater good, for Harry to finish—what are you willing to do? What would you do to ensure she gets to live her better days?
He knew He was supposed to die. He didn't know the details, if it had been saving someone. If he had jumped in front of a jet sparing someone else from the crushing blow. He didn't know how his death affected the eternal balance of things. But if dying would save Hermione Granger he would. Most ardently. Over and over again.
She had asked him to stay with her. And he would, always. Through life and death it needed to be that way.
He kissed the back of her head and held her close. They still had time. Maybe not as much as either would like, but he still had a tomorrow morning where she would be there.
He lowered his head to her ear, whispering as she had a long time ago, "I love you."
Fred thought he could have seen her lips twitch in a smile, but he wasn't quite sure. He kept his arm around her, his finger lightly stroking the bandage of her carved arm as sleep rushed to claim him.
((*))
Hermione felt groggy.
This was a recurring feeling for her. Once the war had come to an end if she slept more than four or five hours at once she'd wake up like this. As though her body was punishing her for her sleeping through a watch window. When they had flown to Australia Harry had made her take a sleeping potion and he swore he'd never do it again after she woke groggy and more irritable than when they had left Heathrow.
She supposed it was only natural to feel groggy. After coming home and being reunited with her parents yesterday, after they had stayed up late filling each other in on their past year—her body hadn't woken her up to take watch.
They had found her parents in the morning and they had spent the afternoon together as a family (and Harry and Ron) on the beach. Their bungalow was in the coast. Her dad had turned on the grill and she must have been out their too long—she could feel the pain of a sunburn on her arm.
But the pain of the sunburn couldn't take away that peace she felt in her soul, the peace given her by the crash of the waves, the knowledge she was home. That she was safe.
And then she felt a rush of panic as she realized she wasn't alone. That she had definitely hadn't just snored in her sleep.
Her eyes flew open and she crashed back into reality. She wasn't in her parents guest room and she knew the burn on her arm wasn't from the sun but from Bellatrix's dagger. She slowly turned her head and found a mop of ginger matted in her own hair.
It was real. Not The Australia dream, but the nightmare that had preceded it. Fleur had called for Fred. And whatmore, he came back for her. He had kissed her fingers, her forehead, her ear—he still loved her, despite everything they had done the last year—he loved her, and she believed it.
Carefully, she turned on her side to get a better look at him. Even in sleep he looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes that had been there for a while, dark sand under the cascade of freckles. There was also a crease between his eyebrows she couldn't remember seeing last summer.
But there was no doubt it was him. That he was real. Not a mirage from a daydream charm or a voice in her head. Physically, he was there. Right there with her. And if her dream was real—those memories before blissful sleep had claimed her—they were together again in every sense of the word. To the end. George had won, Team Fremione had come through in the end and it wasn't going anywhere ever again.
And our end is one that won't come about for another sixty, seventy or so years. Maybe more if we can manage it.
Her fingers smoothed out his hair lightly, a smile touching her lips as she relished in the feel of corn silk under her touch. He was real, and really exhausted. If she was guessing, it was around ten or eleven—it'd be cruel to wake him—but it would be crueler to keep Harry worrying much longer.
Slowly, she separated herself from Fred's embrace. She sat up, holding onto the night table for support. Who knew the last time she had got more than six hours of sleep. Once the black had cleared her eyes and she could focus, she saw the wrap on her arm.
Fleur had tried this last time. Dittany and the Veela cloth. It hadn't worked, but Hermione liked to think it had helped it heal smooth rather than twisted and grotesque. She supposed she could take it off, but she didn't want to see it, not yet. And she didn't want the boys, Harry, Ron—and most of all Fred—to see it either.
They would eventually. But that didn't have to start today.
Instead, they could see it just as a wrapping, covered in frilly white lace and light blue silk that made up her dressing gown. It felt so over the top, and the color identical to Cinderella's ball gown from her childhood that she felt like a groggy warrior princess.
She carefully shut the door behind her, trying not to squeak behind her. The bedroom across from her was locked and she supposed it was Mr Ollivander getting some long sought after sleep. And the small sitting room next to hers was where Griphook slept. The last door, Fleur and Bill's, was cracked and Hermione could only hope their saviors has gotten some sleep over the course of the morning.
Walking down the stairs, she heard sounds coming from the kitchen. She reached for a shawl Fleur has thrown on the chair and wrapped into around her, covering the Cinderella dressing gown and carved arm, and pushed the kitchen door open.
"Hermione!" Multiple voices cried out at once and she felt arms encircle her. She flinched at first, only relaxing when she realized it was Harry and Ron, not Bellatrix and Lucius back to take her.
"Oy, let the girl breath you two," Lee called from the other side of the counter. "No one will thank you if she dies by smothering."
"Think if she was going to die by smothering she'd have died last night with Fred," Harry smirked, letting go and looking down at her with a sound smile, "she looks alive and well to me."
"Not too well though," said Fleur rising from the table, "'Ermione, mon cher, sit down and I'll fix you a plate."
"I'm—"
"She's going to do it whether you like it or not. As soon as Dobby gets back with his things it's going to be a battle of who wins custody of the kitchen" said Bill with a grin as Fleur shot him a dirty look.
She looked to Harry, and realized how much he had won the last couple hours. They were in a safe place with friends. Luna and Lee were around the kitchen table eating from plates stacked with warm hot food. Dobby was on his way back. He hadn't spent the morning digging a grave in the sand. He had spent it with friends, catching up over the war, what had happened and what was still needed.
" Bill, is it alright if I sit outside for a minute?" Hermione asked, looking at the door, "just some fresh air."
Harry had the door open and Ron was at her side helping her out before she realized Bill's answer.
The three of them made their way outside. Hermione could see the bench in front of her and she made her way, guiding Ron and Harry with her to the overlook.
"You two aren't about to become my shadows are you?"
"No," Ron said quickly, looking to Harry.
"But we're not going to let you go wandering outside on a cliff less than twelve hours after being tortured," Harry finished. "How do you feel?"
"Groggy," she said simply, "and sore—my arm feels like it's been sunburned—"
Ron looked at Harry, his face rather alarmed.
"Fleur figures Bellatrix's dagger has a blood curse. Maybe she ought to go to France too with Lee,"
"Cursed wounds never really heals," Hermione said, more for herself than the boys, "I'll be fine. I can still go on. How are you two though? What have I missed?"
"Luna told us what she's been through the last three months. Ollivander and the Goblin has been in there longer than she had, and Lee they reckon has been there for six or eight weeks. Didn't have much to say about the Malfoys, guess it was Pettigrew that took care of them. He didn't recognize Luna from school but knew she was Xeno's daughter and judged that meant she was loony so he steered clear."
"Lucky for her," said Hermione, taking a breath of relief for her friends.
"And Dobby's been helping Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth—" Harry said excitedly, "Been serving as a look out for the DA and smuggled a few kids out of Hogsmeade before they cancelled trips to the village. I'm telling you Hermione, we ever get this world right again you could relaunch SPEW on the Hogwarts House Elf's war efforts. They've done more than most."
She smiled, grateful that Dobby had gotten a reprieve and Harry had found the news they weren't as alone in the efforts as he had felt. Then a thought came to her so quickly she couldn't realize she had forgotten—
"The wand—did you get Draco's wand?"
Harry smiles and whipped out three—the familiar Hawthorne, the crooked dragon heart string of Bellatrix Lestrange and the onyx colored one of Lucius.
"We got all their wands," Harry said with a smile, "I talked with Mr Ollivander and he says their safe to use. I don't feel bad using Malfoys but would rather not use the other two."
"Malfoy was in the room?" She asked, relieved, "But Narcissa had taken him out before they started to torture—"
"They must have come back after you passed out, they were there when we stormed in," Harry growled.
"Think You-Know-Who killed them?" Ron asked, faintly trying to hide his excitement from the thought.
"No, I didn't see that—but he is angry with them. More than he's ever been," Harry supplied.
"Pity," Ron sighed, turning from his gaze of the sea and then back to Hermione. "Guess we'll have to kill them ourselves."
"Ron—"
"But despite that, " Ron trailed on, "we got the wands, recovered the sword of Gryffindor and saved Luna and Lee. Not bad for getting snatched?"
"Not bad at all," she replied with a smile, turning to Harry. "Have you talked with Ollivander yet?"
He nodded, "Asked some questions about your—theory," he said, flicking Malfoy's wand in his hand. "I don't really understand wand lore, but this wand came to me when I said the disarming spell—Ollivander figures it's mine now."
"Perfect," she sighed, relief washing over her. It had worked, they had the Elder Wand now. Or Harry would. They'd be going into Battle the way they needed to.
"Hardly say it's perfect, you should hear Harry's latest plan," Ron said, sitting down on the bench beside her, "Best tell her now mate."
Hermione's eyes flew from Ron to Harry, and she knew. Gringotts.
Harry sat down opposite her, looking antsy. "Hermione I was thinking—Bellatrix seemed terrified of the thought we had been in her vault. And we know You-Know-Who gave Lucius the Diary—what if he'd given Bellatrix a Horcrux to hide and that's where she put it?"
"Makes sense," she said, Ron looking slightly annoyed as though this had been a harder selling point for him, "That's what kept her going, trying to get me to confess to being in there. She could easily have one."
"Harry wants to go in and check," Ron said, unable to hold it in any longer, "He's asked the Goblin about breaking into Gringotts."
"The Goblin?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry, "You've already asked Griphook?"
"Just vaguely, We didn't agree to it or a plan—-he'd want the sword of Gryffindor—"
"No," Hermione said, folding her arms, "absolutely not. He'll double cross us, you know he will—"
"Excuse me SPEW, that seems a little judgmental—" Ron teased.
She shot him a dirty look, "You can't make deals with Goblins when treasure is on the line; he'll think he's reclaiming globin ownership—and we could be the cost—"
"But if a Horcrux is in there we need it. And that means we need to break in—"
"If Quirrell can get in and out so can we, we're smarter than him." Hermione resolved, staring down the pair, "we proved that years ago."
"He had You-Know-Who on the back of his head mate," Ron said to Hermione, "Not saying you're not smarter than Quirrell but—"
"If I can't come up with a plan, let's invite him," Hermione said firmly, "But give me a day or two to do it."
She locked eyes with Harry and he nodded. She knew he also doubted Griphook loyalty. It wouldn't take much to sway him to her plan. All she needed was Harry in an invisibility cloak doing the imperious curse. And she could play a more convincing Bellatrix this time—if she set off a couple shock spells or did some smoke and mirrors maybe they'd believe her all the more—
"Oi!" A voice called from the doorway. The three of them looked up and Hermione laughed to see Fred, his hair still poking up in every which way, his clothes crumpled from sleep waving a plate of pancakes and eggs at them.
"I think your boyfriend wants you to join him for breakfast," Ron said rolling his eyes.
Harry looked at her and smirked, "Hermione Granger rushing to break into banks, I think he's been a bad influence."
"With Harry Potter and Ron Weasley as best friends and Fred Weasley as my boyfriend, did you ever stop to wonder if maybe I was the bad influence?" Hermione said with a wink as she got up and walked to the house, a smile spreading on Fred's face as she got closer.
((*))
It had been the best night at Shell Cottage yet, and there had been many in the week since he had come.
Remus has come bringing pictures of Baby Teddy, showing off the turquoise baby as they toasted to his long life and the long life of his Godfather.
Theodore Remus Lupin. Little Teds. Fred was looking forward to teaching that little Imp every trick he could think of. If he could change his appearance like his Mum, there was literally no disguise that would fail him. McGonagall best retire now.
Midway through the celebration came an Owl from George confirming he'd be there in the morning with a fake passport for Lee. The three of them would apparate in the morning to Dover, cross the channel and meet with Penny, Bea and Angelina. George would join them and take Lee down to St. François to get the dagger wound taken care of, Fleur's badges finally running out. And then once they were safe and on their way, he would come back to Hermione at Shell Cottage.
Remus had left now. Lee had gone to bed, now taking Ollivander's room. Ron was in the living room talking with Luna, softly chuckling about something or another. Fred had just come back to the kitchen after penning a reply to George and found the kitchen nearly empty, Hermione nowhere in sight. .
"She's on her bench," Harry said, looking up from the picture of his Godson, "I think it's her new library where she's getting all her answers."
"Pretty hard to get answers without books isn't it?" Fred asked taking two mugs from the cupboard and some packets of coco.
"I'm pretty sure she's memorized her favorites and she's divining the rest. 'Course she dropped Divination, so maybe she's just thinking," he shrugged. Then he sat up a little straighter and steeled his eyes, "Fred,if you hurt her again, remember I'm the boy who lived and your sister is the girl who hexes—"
" And she's going to hex me when she finds out I've seen you lot," Fred laughed, "why do you think I've been staying at Shell Cottage since Fleur called? It's safer hiding with the three most wanted people in Britain than it is returning to Auntie Muriel and facing Ginny."
Harry laughed and looked back down at the picture of Teddy and then back up to Fred. "I think we're getting closer, Hermione has this theory about Malfoy's wand—once our new hairbrained scheme goes off it'll be days, not weeks till it's over."
"Anyway I can get in on that?" Fred asked hopefully, waving his wand over the hot chocolate as it filled with milk and started mixing itself.
Harry shrugged, "You'd have to ask Hermione. We have this whole 'Not putting the people we love at risk without discussing it with each other' thing—might go over better if you appeal to her."
"I can do that," Fred smirked, taking the hot chocolate and heading to the door.
"Oi Fred—" Harry called, making him stop mid step, turning around.
"I mean it," he said, little red sparks coming from the tip of his wand.
"You taught me all the hexes I know Potter," Fred said, pushing the door open with his shoulder, "I don't want to join the body bags," he winked and disappeared into the night.
The wind had died down from earlier in the day. It was nearly past dusk. The faint pinks of the sunset long since gone, the hues of twilight lingering overhead. A semi circle of blue lights hovered above her as she sat, wrapped in a blanket watching the sea foam mix with the crashing waves below them.
"You know if I didn't know better, Ginny and Harry seem to be itching for a chance to hex me on your behalf," he said, offering her a cup of cocoa. She took it with a smile offering up some of her blanket to cover him too, "Oh don't mind him; I think he's in over protective mode seeing me in bandages."
"Between the three of us you have the equivalent of a Gringotts Security Troll watching you," Fred said, taking some of the blanket she had extended and tucking it around him, scooting closer and putting his arm around her. "Well and you also have Lee, so a Security troll and his fierce—yet maimed—assistant whose particularly good at swearing. And Luna the exotic, loyal and fierce pet."
She snorted, burrowing into his side, "You know they only have security trolls upstairs in the lobby, not down where it matters."
"Is that so?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "am I getting spoilers from the future?"
She raised her finger to her lips and met his eyes with a coy smile, "Perhaps."
He squeezed her shoulder and in mock cringe turned to her, "Oh come on, tell us a story."
She looked back at the house, as though debating if anyone could hear. Her eyes fleeting back to the sea, the crashing waves answered for her. "It's actually what we're going to do next—we're just trying to work through the fine details."
"Go on," Fred egged her on. He had doubted she'd actually share future stories, he was encouraged that she was actually about to reveal some looming plan.
"At the manor, when they disarmed the Malfoys they got Malfoy's wand, but also Lucius and Bellatrix," Hermione said, taking a sip of her drink. "But I have a hidden souvenir—one of Bellatrix's hairs stuck to my sweater."
"Oh?" Fred asked, looking down at her with mild confusion, "Connect the dots Sunny, please."
"I have her hair and a helping of Polyjuice potion left," Hermione started, "and also an inside tip that what we're looking for is in Bellatrix's vault."
He knew what she was alluding too but it didn't make logical sense. She wasn't suggesting what Fred was thinking. He had always known Hermione was a little mad—brilliant in her head and madder yet for loving him—but she couldn't be this insane.
She just kept looking at him with tricksters eyes. He knew that look. He often wore that look.
She was insane. Certifiably.
"No—" he started, "No, I forbid it—"
"Oh we're forbidding now are we?" She asked, leaning away from his embrace, "Just going to cross your arms and say I'm not allowed?"
"Sunny," he started, reaching for her hand, "You of all people know what will happen if they get you. They'll make your arm look like a pretty little tattoo and make sure you're dead before you get a chance to leave the room."
"But it will work," she countered, squeezing his hand. "We did it last time. I know exactly what to do."
He knew this. She hadn't written in her journal for him to read of this escape, but he knew she had time traveled—
She was impossible.
"My girlfriend broke into Gringotts and successfully broke out—" he said, his words trailing. He bent his head down to kiss her forehead, "Do you have any idea how devious our children would be with a dad that broke out of Hogwarts and a Mum that pulled off a Gringotts heist?"
She looked up smiling, "Stuff of legends that mum and dad."
"I'll say," he mused, shaking his head with disbelief, "how'd you do it?"
"Well last time I used the Polyjuice, had Ron in disguise and Harry was under the cloak with Griphook—"
"The Goblin?" Fred interrupted, "But you lot sent him over to Muriel's—"
"He double crossed us," Hermione said simply. "When we got down to the vault he took Gryffindor sword and left us to die. So I figured it might be wise to cut him from the operation."
"But you don't have anyone on the inside—"
"I was on the inside. I just have to get Ron and Harry to trust me. And I've done so many hair brained blind faith follows with Harry over the years he owes me."
"What about me?" Fred asked, catching her by surprise, "you put me in disguise and I go with you three."
"No," she said automatically, "absolutely not."
"Oh come on, you're going to need a fourth. You can tell me everything I need to know so we can get you guys into the vault and out of there before it's too late," Fred tried, "oh come on, if anything I can be a good luck charm and your eye candy."
She chuckled, shaking her head, "Fred—"
"Please Hermione—we get whatever it is, we're one step closer to ending this and going back to Majorca."
"That would be nice," she said, "but the Battles the next morning. You should stay home, rest and—"
"If this could be my last day on earth, I'd prefer it to be spent breaking into banks with my girlfriend thank you."
Her eyes locked on to his and he noticed how her expression had changed. The tricksters eyes were gone, now it was her sad crushing look, as though she was holding the world on her shoulders "Fred—"
"You knew what was going to happen if you went to Malfoy Manor, didn't you?"
She didn't say anything, she turned her head and to the sea. Fred set down his hot chocolate on the ground before getting up and kneeling on the ground in front of her, guiding her eyes to his.
"You went through that hell—twice—so you could end this. If I sit this out Hermione I'll live with the guilt of not going. What if someone dies because I wasn't there to stand in the way? What if you die?"
"We got the kids out" she said too quickly, as though the words were bubbling over, "We've saved Ted Lupin, the kids are safe in France, Remus—"
"Has lost his three best friends to this conflict, he's going to be in the mix of things," he said, thumb brushing over her fingers, "And now he's fighting for Teddy. You can't put us all on a shelf safe from harm."
Her hand grips for his and she reached up to pull his head to face hers. "I won't lose you too Fred. I won't. Please."
Fred could see a different trace of madness about her. The Hermione of his seventh year studying for OWLs. The Battle worn veteran of two wars, vulnerable and unsteady. The young woman who had already given up so much for people she loved, refusing to lose this love too.
"I promise, I will do my damndest to live," he said, his free hand covering hers against his cheek. He let go of it to brush her own cheek, slightly hot and pink from her temper. "But if it's a choice between keeping you alive and dying, that choice was made a long time ago."
"You die for me and I'll kill you again," she burst with a haunting laugh mingled with tears, "I want you to live for me."
"I can do that," he said, rising from his knee and kissing her soundly, salty tears linger on her lips as the waves beat the shore below them.
He was still concerned about what the ramifications would be of defying the Grim. That first night, he had been willing to submit to whatever time demanded if that meant Hermione would see better days. And now he had crossed his fingers promising her under no uncertain terms he wouldn't think like that.
He wasn't sure who he was tricking. Time, Hermione or himself and the dreams he had of a life in their own cottage above the sea with devious children escaping Hogwarts and breaking into Gringotts.
Lee and gotten a reprieve.
Would he?
"Let me come to Gringotts with you," he whispered into her hair, kissing her forehead as he held her close, "You and me, one last run."
She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes tinged with red, "You should really be resting—if you insist on coming—you should be at home relaxing."
"Knowing my girlfriend and kid brother are breaking into a maximum security vault?" He asked, brushing her cheek with his thumb, stealing a tear, "hardly conclusive to relaxing."
She laughed, and he did too. She looked up at him, "Let me talk to Harry about it. If he doesn't have a problem—and you agree to do exactly what I say—"
"Fred Weasley gets to break into Gringotts?" He asked with disbelief.
"Yes, Fred Weasley gets to break into Gringotts."
I'd climb every mountain
and swim every ocean
just to be with you
and fix what I've broken
Cause I need you to see,
That you are the reason.
On the initial writing of this chapter I really liked it but as I've gone through in editing I'm not quite sure. If my ex showed up at my bed side and started telling me he loved me after a near death experience I'd probably just try and fake going back to sleep and mentally making note to kill my friend who summoned him but these are our goofy kids and they're better than us right? So this is ok, right?
Song credit "You are the Reason" by Calum Scott. When I finish this piece I'll go through and put the songs from my playlist to each chapter... but given their break up had a song, I figured the reunion warranted one too.
When I first started writing this story, this—and the last ten or so chapters lingered on the horizons as what we were chasing towards. In a way these were my fixed points I was writing towards. The break up—the ministry—Potterwatch—the passports—the Manor—the Reunion. The building blocks of the war to follow the building blocks (first thirty or so chapters of this) of their relationship. The next five or so chapters—their not going to be building anything. Their going to be the results of these two. Of the changes they've made to time and the changes they've made to each other.
We're in the endgame now loves. And Freddie Weasley is breaking into Gringotts.
I'm beginning my training for a spring race so my elliptical writing may taper down. I also work for an online retailer and we're entering the busy season. I'm going to aim for a Thanksgiving update but it may end up being early December.
Until then, ask the people you love what they're thinking.
Love you my sunshines,
Kait