Falling Breaths

The sun had yet to peak over the horizon.

Bright hues of pink tempered the angry red that made up most of the sky. Red sky in morning, sailor take warning—but what about thief—should thieves take warning too?

She has just taken Bellatrix's Polyjuice potion. It was a thick black syrup that started sweet and then turned so foul, so tart she had forgotten just how bad it had been. She had nearly spewed it out. But the bubbling of her skin had stopped and looking into the mirror she could see how effective it was. The cascade of black curls falling from her hair, her long claw like nails, sharp chin and raven like eyes hungrily staring back at her, looking for some tell tale sign it was an impostor that stood in front of her, not Bellatrix LeStrange.

She lifted her head and jutted out her chin, looking through half open eyelids. "You will take me to my vault goblin," she said, trying to mimic her voice. "Take me!" She said in a tempered rage.

Like you mean it, she chided herself, taking Bellatrix's wand, flicking it like a whip as red sparks shot out. She scrunched her face together as though in disgust, "You doubt my loyalty to the Dark Lord? Who are you to—"

A heavy snore stopped her. She turned around, seeing Fred still deep in sleep.

She had told him he could come, but when she had gotten up that morning it's as though the first rays of common sense had touched her since she came to Shell Cottage. This was a fool's errand, and she needed her fool rested and alive. He'd understand. She'd still see him in less than 24 hours. He'd have forgiven her by then, right?

Straightening up she looked at the mirror again, and scowled. But something strange happened. She was scowling, she could feel the muscles between her eyebrows knit together, her lips in a straight line. Yet the reflection in front of her was smiling smugly, the eyes holding back laughter.

"Are you done little Miss Mudblood?" The mirror cackled. Out of shock Hermione dropped her wand. She made a move to step back but the reflection knew this and reached out her hand through the mirror and wrapped her claws around her wrist as her other hand pulled out a silver dagger.

"You must try harder than that Mudblood," she growled, "Like an unforgivable, you must have a purpose behind your intimidation. All magic is driven by purpose, passion," she scolded as though she was McGonagall coaching them through transfiguration. With her one hand she pulled Hermione closer to her and the other she drew her dagger and raked it over the blue silk wrappings Fleur had been using for her arm. They fell like flower petals revealing fresh cuts, blood already pooling on her arm.

"Now the only question is do I kill you, or keep you around long enough to watch Freddie die," she laughed, her voice harsh and low "It's always so fun to watch them die in your eyes."

Her head has been racing but now it had stopped. She whipped her head around. Fred was still in bed, fast asleep, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. But the wall behind the bed wasn't the wood wall of the cottage but one of stone. Thick cut boulders stacked on top of each other. And the wall was swaying, moving as thought it was breathing. Something had upset it.

"NO!" Hermione started, sitting up quickly ,holding her arm tight to her chest, her heart racing again as her eyes drew back into focus.

One, two, three, the devil's after me, she chanted in her head, the rhyme she had come up last time when she had her Bellatrix nightmares. Four, five, six, I dodge his mighty bricks, seven, eight, nine, I miss them just in time...

She felt a hand touch her hip, the bed shift next to her. Fred.

He wasn't under a blanket of stone. It had all been a dream. Her arm was still securely wrapped. It wasn't red and raw and fresh. At most it was simply agitated, much like her.

His fingers traced her side, playing with the bottom of her shirt, "Are you alright love?" Fred asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.

This hasn't been the first night Hermione had woken up to nightmares of Bellatrix and the manor—they had been her constant companion since she stopped taking Fleur's dreamless sleep potion three days after the attack. They boys had kept giving her this look of grief and guilt every time she took it she had had enough of it. Let them think she was whole and healthy, she'd deal with the consequences. Maybe they'd trust her plan more if they didn't know she was falling to pieces every time she closed her eyes.

This had been the first time Fred had woken up because of her nightmares though. He had suspected them, usually waking before she did and seeing her toss, turn or groan but she'd always cast it off as "You and George were showing me products for the store and it was painful." He'd act wounded, kiss her head, and playfully hit her with a pillow as they made the bed, not bringing it up for further discussion.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaking. She closed her eyes, pressing her hands to the bridge of her nose. She could feel the hot tears pooling and falling at an odd slant against her fingers.

Suddenly she felt a hand grip her shoulders tightly as Fred pulled himself up and closer to her. His arm draped around her as though offering every possible protection. Her arm pressed against his side as he held her, anchoring her to the present. She felt his hand chasing a tear wiping it away. "Want to try that again?" He asked, his voice softer, his arms open " Are you alright love?"

And suddenly it felt as though something inside her crashed and the floodgates were open.

She folded into his chest, tears falling hot and fast in his lap. She felt his other arm draped across their fronts, pulling her closer to him, guarding her, protecting her from the nightmare that surrounded them.

He was rocking slightly, a hand stroking her hair, a soft voice telling her this was alright, lips set against her temple.

One, two, three—the devils after me—

The hand had stopped stroking, instead it rested at the base of her neck, "What happened Sunny?" The calm voice asked, kissing her temple and then turning his face to hers, "and if you say it was a dream about George and I'd product I'll swear off the shop altogether."

"Don't you dare," A laugh came out as a hiccup -and she looked up, ferociously wiping her eyes of the bloody tears. "No it was a nightmare, Bellatrix—"

"I'm going to kill her, I promise, you'll never have to worry about her again I swear—" he said so quickly the words tripping over each other, "I swear," he took her hand and squeezed it tight, "I swear I'll make it to where she'll never be able to hurt you again."

"She didn't hurt me—she hadn't yet—"Hermione interrupted, "It was you, she killed you. She was about to kill you. You were asleep in bed and she brought down the wall on you—"

Fred went quiet, running his thumb over the hand in his, "Here, let me get you some water," he said before getting up and walking to some glasses he had brought up a few nights before, waving his wand over both of them.

Hermione sat up straighter, her hands running to her hair as though she was still trying to calm herself down. It was just a nightmare. And she was right, she was only acting this way because it was Fred who had died. How many mornings had she woken up and smiled about dreaming of her death? More often than naught. It was just the thought of Fred dying, under a wall—it was supposed to happen a week from today after all—they might only have a week left-

He came back, extending her glass of water, clinking his glass with hers, "Cheers."

She took a drink and felt the cool chill rush through her. Let it flush, she thought, what do we know? It was a dream. It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. Fred's alive. You're keeping him alive. Bellatrix won't kill him, no one or nothing will. You are both going to make it out of this.

Or you don't. And you've gone through everything for no reason at all.

You don't; and you have to go through peacetime without Fred Weasley.

"Feel better? Fred asked, setting his glass down, "want to talk about it?"

What do you want Hermione?—For Fred to live.

"Sunny?"

I want Fred to live.

"I don't want you to come, when we go to Hogwarts," Hermione said, her voice steady, her eyes darting to him, "please Fred—I won't, I can't lose you. Not again."

"We said we'd talk about this when I get back tomorrow,"Fred said softly, putting his arm around her, both of them leaning into the pillows.

He was leaving in the morning to meet George at a safe house in Dover. George had stayed in France while Lee was in the hospital and had supposedly spent some time at Beauxbatons with the Muggleborns.

"When you get back, now—what's the difference?" Hermione asked, "if I knew they'd put you in Azkaban and not kill you I'd hope they get you at Gringotts. You'd be safer there than Hogwarts."

He looked at her suspiciously, "You'd really leave me to Azkaban rather then let me go into battle with you?"

"You'd do the same? If the roles were reversed?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

Fred shook his head, "No, I don't think I would."

"If you knew there was a better than certain chance I'd be dying in battle, in front of you, you're telling me you wouldn't lock me up somewhere until the danger passed?"

Fred looked less sure of himself and Hermione smiled, "See? You wouldn't risk it for me, why do you think I'd risk it for you?"

"I know you're supposed to survive this Hermione. But we've changed so much—what if we changed your survival somehow?" He asked, setting down his glass on the night table, "I think knowing what's happening—I have to be there. What if you need me, or George? What if my twin needs me?"

"We need you alive. We need you there when the dust settles," she reached for his hand, gripping it tight, "I need you when the night falls and the sun rises."

He laughed at this, kissing the back of her head, "Come on Sunny, you need some sleep, you're going all soft and mushy on me," he said, lying down. Hermione, not appreciating be called mushy laid down, but faced the wall and not Fred. Mushy—you tell him the depths of your emotion and he calls you soft and mushy.

Then she felt finger tips leaving light trails up and down her back. Little sparks of electricity popping where they had been.

"Where'd you learn that trick?" Hermione asked, still focused on the wall, not quite ready to cave, "Girlfriend while we were apart?"

She could see his smile behind her eyes. "Hardly," he snorted, trying to subdue a laugh as his hand caressing a spot near her neck, "Mum used to tickle our backs when we couldn't sleep, figured I should throw a back rub in to ensure good dreams."

"Smart woman your mum," Hermione said, relaxing at the touch, waiting for sleep to come claim her.

"Very," Fred answered, and Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. "Oh, I didn't tell you did I? She figured it out—you and me. After you sent the Patronus warning us about Ginny."

Her eyes opened wide and Hermione rolled over on her other side to get a proper read of his face. Her hand covering the one that had been stroking her back. "What's she say? Do I still get to come around the Burrow? Was she angry?"

He laughed, his lips kissing her forehead, "Apparently she and dad couldn't figure if you were running around with me or George."

"George?" Hermione said, a little louder than intentioned before she joined him laughing, "you date one twin you date them both?"

"No, you date one secretly you're going to need to rely on the other one to help you out," he smiled, tucking a hair back behind her ear, "Mum was fine with it. In fact, when I told her we weren't together anymore she almost seemed put out."

She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes, resting her head besides his chest, tucked under his arm. "Don't know what I was so worried about."

She could feel the soft pull of sleep lapping her away from him. She was so close to leaving when she heard his words, "So long as I'm here Sunny, you have nothing to worry about."

((*))

Fred left early that morning before anyone had gotten up. Bill knew he was leaving, they all did, there was no reason to wait till the house was awake and become a human owl passing messages between the two Weasley Households. He had done his service as an owl, he wasn't keen to start that again.

He walked the windswept beach line outside of Shell Cottage, only to turn every few steps and look back at Hermione's window. He knew she hadn't been sleeping well, and knew that there were nightmares, but she had always brushed them aside, until last night—

He had never seen her like that. She had cried when she told him she had sent her parents away. When he had broken up with her there again were little hysterical tears, but nothing to the same extreme as last night.

She has gone back to sleep, but he hadn't. He couldn't. Not when she was facing demons he couldn't see. Not after she had told him she'd rather see him safe in Azkaban than at her side at Hogwarts—

And he got that. In full honesty he knew he wouldn't be at her side. She'd be at Harry's side, hurling hexes like she'd done since she was a first year. He'd probably be on secret passage duty or using his seven years of castle knowledge for the Greater Good. They'd see each other at the start and, God willing, when it was all over. If she was in danger, he probably wouldn't know. Not unless there was a magnetic pull between them that would tip them off should danger befall the other.

But she'd rather you be in Azkaban—

And that's what had given him his idea.

As far as he could figure it, the defenders of Hogwarts would be limited to the faculty and any member of the Order that could make it there. As far as he knew, there were only twenty or so members of the Order still fighting—and three of them, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout, were also faculty.

Meanwhile, You-Know-Who would be bringing all of his baddies. He didn't know how many of them there were, but between the Dementors, Giants and Death Eaters he knew there were scores more than twenty. If they were going to be defending the castle, they needed back up. They needed more people.

And not just any people, people who were willing to fight. People who knew what was at risk.

Azkaban.

He apparated quickly, leaving one windy beach for the blistering wind along a wayside road. The sun had not yet risen and he emerged from the tree line headed South to the Farmhouse George had deemed their safe house.

Fred didn't want to know how or why George and Angelina had sought refuge here earlier in the spring, but he was grateful they had. George had set up wards that would make it at least temporarily a good place to hide. Somewhere they could meet without their mother eavesdropping or Bill asking questions.

He knew quite well his Mother was furious that he had abandoned them; George told him as much when they went to France with Lee. Fred was supposed to come back with George but Fred wasn't willing to leave Hermione. "Tell them Bill has a job for me," he had said, "He figured Muriel would have been unbearable if both twins were there—least he could do was get them out. George was running to France—as far as his mother knew to help with the last of the Muggle transports—and Fred was helping Bill. Fred would tell her the truth someday, but only on a someday where Harry, Ron and Hermione we're alive and well sitting at her Breakfast table, danger passed. She'd understand, but only then.

He and George had met here when Fred came with Lee a few weeks ago, escorting him to France. That had also been the occasion George had found out their plans for Gringotts. He wasn't completely on board with it—but the fact it had been Hermione's idea and not his seemed to make him feel better about it. As he said, he didn't have to like it—he just has to deal with it.

Fred walked into the farmhouse, it was empty of any furniture or belongs, save for the few overturn crates and a light catcher left in the window. "Homenum Revelio" he said, waving his wand. Nothing happened, giving him a sense of peace and he began lifting two crates and trying his transfiguration skills at making two armchairs.

He heard a creak from the door and turned from the chairs. His brother opened the door, holding a brown bag and his wand in front of him.

"What was the first thing we wanted to name the shop?" Fred asked, holding his wand in front of George.

"Weasleys Wannabangs," George sighed, shaking his head, "Proof Fifteen year old boys need an outside opinion when making business decisions. Who do you call your sunshine?" He asked with a smirk.

Fred waved his wand and a burst of wind rang terror on George's hair, sending it every which way, "Hermione and she sends her regards."

"How is our little sunshine?" George asked, falling into the newly made armchair, trying to smooth out his hair. He took out the bag again and withdrew two bagel sandwiches, handing one to his brother.

"She's been better—" Fred sighed, taking the sandwich, "but Merlin knows she's been worse too."

George nodded, looking away. Fred had told him last time what had happened. He knew she had a scar she had yet to show anyone aside from Fleur. He knew she had been tortured by Bellatrix. He knew everything aside from the nightmares that had been plaguing her and the one that woke them both last night.

"And the sunspot?"

"Ron's doing ok," Fred answered quickly, "Harry too."

That was mostly true. They were ok. How ok they were with Fred joining the Gringotts heist he wasn't sure. He knew Harry was ok with it but was still unsure about Ron's opinions— they didn't matter—but perhaps they did?

"Good," George said, "won't go telling Ginny that quite yet, but good."

"How's Lee?" Fred asked, unwrapping the sandwich and leaning into the chair, "happy and making breakfast sandwiches in Bordeaux?"

George smiled but shook his head. "Got released a few days ago. He and Ange are staying with Penny outside of Calis," he gave his bagel a wave, "this was a lovely little treat from Penny's sister Bea."

Fred nodded and took a bigger bite knowing Penny and Bea wouldn't prank them like Lee would have. "He doing alright?"

"Healers said it could have been a lot worse," George answered. "Fixed his arse in a heartbeat—it was his face they were worried about. Guess the Bastards opened those wounds as soon as they'd heal. Curse on Bellatrix's dagger gets stronger with multiple uses. His face scars still kind of there, but they have him using this cream that may make it fade in a few months. Maybe not completely but they'll be manageable—smooth and not jagged. He's talking about getting a face tattoo to make him look more hardcore than he really is."

"So he'll still have his devilish good looks for trips into Muggle London," Fred said with a smile.

"Exactly. He'll be back to breaking hearts in no time," George nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. Something on his face was changing and Fred had a feeling it wasn't related to the sandwich. He set down his own and looked at his brother, "what is it?"

"Speaking of Heartbreak—"

"Oh hell, don't tell me you were an ass and broke up with Angelina," Fred started, staring at his brother.

"No!" He said immediately, "I'm the smart twin remember? I don't put my bird through break ups for stupid reasons. No it's the kids—"

Fred raised an eyebrow, "At Beauxbatons? What's wrong? Are they ok?"

"They were nearly in a riot when I went to visit them. Once they found out I wasn't there to take them home—" he gave a low whistle, "if Harry and the other two don't end this thing sooner than later I wouldn't surprise if they sneak their way back."

"They want to pull a Dean Thomas do they?" Fred asked, "didn't you tell them they were there for there own safety?"

"Have you ever tried talking twenty odd Gryffindors off the ledge?" George asked, but rolled straight into the answer, "Course not, we were always there on the ledge with them."

He sighed, "They want to leave—they want to be where the fight is, their own personal safety be damned. They want to be part of ending this."

Fred pauses for a minute, "Can you blame them?"

"No but—" George hesitates, "everything we've done to get them out was for their safety. We couldn't—we can't bring them back to this. Not before it's over—"

He didn't finish but he didn't have to. Fred knew what could happen. What would most likely happen. They'd get snatched up and shipped off to Azkaban, or worse, they'd fight it and get killed. Dead Muggleborns didn't get as much gold as living ones, but they Ministry would slap some false charges on they're heads and pay a small fortune.

The Creevey Brothers. Nigel Lawrence. Anna Denton. He had ulterior motives getting them out. They were in the list of the dead. Getting them out was all about defying Hermione's little book and keeping them alive.

Speaking of defying the book—

"What are you thinking?" George asked, looking skeptically at his brother, "I know that face—we share that face—your thinking something."

Fred paused for a minute before letting out a heavy sigh. "I've had an idea. And you're not going to like it."

"Oh hell," George sighed, falling back into the chair, "go ahead, get it out."

"So—we're breaking into Gringotts soon—"

"Worse idea of the decade but go on—"

"And er—part of the escape plan involves a dragon."

George nodded, Fred has shared this detail last time. George had run out of words to describe how foolish this was so he had just stared on in a mix of horror and admiration. Fred didn't know if he had been relieved or alarmed—

"Yes, dragon. Flying off into the sunset, quite lovely."

"Well, so far the plan is to fly the Dragon north, and for the kids to apparate near Hogsmeade and make ready for the final push," Fred said quickly, "Hermione doesn't want me to follow them. Says she'll call when they're ready for reinforcements but even then—"

"She's more interested in your own preservation than you are," George finished. "Don't need to explain it to me, I've loved that girl for it. What's your idea Freddie? Where are you going after you split from the dragon?"

"I'm not," Fred said simply, "George, I'm taking the dragon farther north. I'm taking the dragon to Azkaban."

A chill ran through him as he said the words. He looked at his brother who looked like he had been smacked upside the head with his beaters bat.

"You're what?"

"I'm taking the dragon and I'm going to liberate Azkaban."

"Are you a bleeding idiot? You can't possibly liberate Azkaban! Not just you and a dragon!"

"Are you volunteering to come along?" Fred asked slyly, ignoring his brothers nervous twitches.

"Fred I'm serious—this is foolhardy—"

"Lucky for us I'm a pretty hardy old fool then," he smiled, but reading George's face he pressed on. "Come on, Harry's going to make battle at Hogwarts—he'll have the teachers and staff that won't leave, and maybe a dozen or so of the older kids that will want to fight—why not pick up a couple more fighters from Azkaban? The Ministry's chucked how many hundreds of people in there—If we could get them out—"

"But Freddie how are you going to get them out? Does Dragon Fire equate to patronuses?"

"They should," Fred tried, "Dementors cloaks don't really look fire resistant to me."

George brought his hands to his eyes and pressed down, "Damn fire resistance—how do you plan on getting past an island full of dementors?"

"As soon as the battle gets a location You-Know-Who is going to call them there—you don't think he'd let the Death Eaters have all the fun."

"He's just going to leave the island unattended is he?" George pushed.

"Yes," Fred answered back, annoyed. "He might leave a small force but the Dementors have been holding these people for months—they're going to think they're all broken and run off to try and snag a few souls for breakfast."

"That's another point worth looking at," George said, a laugh in his voice, "you want to open the prison doors get those people out and rush them into battle—they're not going to be ready for that Fred."

"What about Justin then?" Fred growled, "we're just supposed to leave him there?"

"Fred if your right he will only be in prison 6 hours more—ten at the most. Harry will have his fight, they'll end it, and Azkaban will be open by breakfast. Justin misses the fight but gets out anyway."

"But—"

"If Harry's as strapped for fighters as you think he is, we're needed at Hogwarts, not on a suicide mission in the North Sea."

But we get them out, we take some to the fight. We change the battle ever so slightly—Hermione doesn't want me there but I can't miss it—we change the battle with new participants, maybe I don't die—Fred thought. He stood up from the chair and looked at his brother.

"I'm not asking for your permission Georgie, I'm asking for your help," he said honestly, looking at his brother, "I know you tend to think of life expectancy more than most—"

"You never do," George answered, sighing and rising to his feet. George seemed to stare him down, as though he was trying to divine tea leaves. "You really think this is a good idea?" He asked, no accusation in his voice,

"We do it right we're in and out in an hour-two at most, and then on the way back to Hogwarts," Fred said.

George shook his head. "I don't like it Freddie. I need you to know that—I don't like this at all. But—"

"But?" Fred answered, a spark of hope going off in his head.

"But you seem gunho about this—and I can't let you do something this stupid alone. You need someone to bring your body back to Mum and Hermione."

"You'll come?" Fred asked in mild disbelief.

"We'll need help. I'll see if I can convince Lee and Angelina about your fool's errand—"

"Right—"

"And we'll need a planner—someone who's not you—who will come up with an escape plan if we need it."

"Penny?" Fred suggested. George nodded, "and maybe Katie Bell. Alicia and Oliver too if they're in for a death run."

"Oliver Wood hasn't been able to play Quidditch since the Ministry fell. He has nothing to live for at the moment," Fredsays simply, "Reckless Oliver is the best Oliver—he'll come."

George shook his head, taking the bagel wrapping and making it vanish. He looked at Fred with an expression Fred couldn't place.

"Remember how long it took us to come up with a plan to break out of Hogwarts? Do you think a week is long enough to plan something like this?" He asked.

"We can be a rather determined pair," Fred smirked, "they always seem to underestimate us, but we usually pull off things like this."

George gave a weak smile, looking at some empty space on the floor, his head nodding, "Yeah, suppose we do."

"And Geoegie," Fred said,clapping his brothers shoulder, " we do this, we're helping Harry end it. It'll be over by breakfast."

George nodded, talking his brothers shoulder and squeezing it tightly. "I'm going to go tell the gang we have a suicide run to plan—this will make Lee's day, he was terrified he was going to get all soft in France."

"No rest for the wicked," Fred smiled. George walked to the fire place, but rather than ducking into green flames he disappeared with the faintest pop, leaving Fred alone in the house.

((*))

Fred returned to the cottage around noon and found it already in its usual routines. Harry was somewhere in the sand dunes, talking with Dobby about something or other. He ran into Bill in the kitchen who told him Hermione was upstairs getting her bandages changed with Fleur. He had debated staying in the kitchen and fixing lunch when he saw a solitary ginger on the beach, throwing stones at the surprisingly calm surf.

"You've been doing this since you were a kid, ever since me and George taught you" Fred smiled as he comes over a hand full of pebbles. He set his rocks next to Ron's pile and arched his back.

Ron's mouth twitched, but neither to a smile or a scowl. They haven't really had a chance to talk, not one on one like this.

Truth be told, neither of them had sought the other in a one on one situation. As soon as Fred had gotten to Shell Cottage he had only had Hermione on the mind. Lee had been an added bonus. But it was in this moment, as he was trying to maneuver rocks on the sea that he realized they hadn't had a conversation just the two of them since Christmas.

"Trickier in open ocean," Fred said, watching his second rock skip twice before disappearing in the waves.

"Put a calming spell on it—it's just not sticking right," Ron explained with a shrug, "still has a tide, it's tricky is all."

Fred nodded reaching for a third rock that went as disastrous as the first two. He could see Ron smirk, his own hopping four times along the water before disappearing.

"You've seem to got it down," Fred said, his voice friendly. "Hopefully I won't have to skip rocks on our Gringotts adventure."

"I can do that," Ron said, his voice still stoic and detached.

Not going to make this easy for me are you little brother, Fred thought. "I never asked you—are you ok with me coming along?"

This time when Ron through a rock it fell straight into the sea.

"It's alright—"

"Oh don't be a liar Ron. You're many things but you've never been a liar—"

"It's just different," Ron offered shrugging his shoulders and looking at Fred. "It's still taking some getting used to, you and Hermione. And now your coming along—Harry wouldn't even let Remus do that when he tried last fall."

"Do you want me to back out?" Fred asked, tracing the outline of stone as he turned to the horizon.

"Hell no," Ron answered quickly. "To be honest, I think this Gringotts heist planning is what's keeping Hermione from dwelling on what happened—take that away—"

Fred nodded, " I think your right.""

Silence spilled between them like the sea foam at they're feet. One moment. And then another. The moments growing to a pause.

One that Ron broke. "I'm—I'm sorry about that," be stammered out, his voice tight.

"About what?" Fred asked, his eyes turning from the sea to his brother.

Ron looked as uncomfortable as Fred had ever seen him. His face drawn as tight as his voice, ruddy cheeks and the faintest sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Ron's voice wasn't calm anymore. No bit of him was. Whatever was bothering was bubbling up from within him like an angry stove top, his voice a little higher, wobbly, unsure.

"You made me promise to keep Hermione safe," he started, "And when Bellatrix separated us, I couldn't—"

Fred stopped, dropping the stone in his hand and turned to his brother. "Ron there wasn't anything you could have done—"

"I could've done something," Ron said, sitting down on a large boulder, head in hands as he cradled if looking at the sand. "I tried, I tried to have them take me first but I didn't try hard enough. If I had thought of something—something that would have made them hate blood traitors more than Mudbloods it would have been me and not her—"

Fred walked towards Ron and sat in the boulder next to him, hesitantly putting his arm around his brothers shoulders.

"There's nothing you could've done to make them hate you more than her," said Fred, "it's all blood to them. Only way you could've was if you were a Muggleborn too and even then the bastards still would've gone for her because she was a girl—"

"I can still hear it when I sleep," Ron said, lifting up his head for the slightest moment, long enough for Fred to see the tears stacking in his eyes, " I go to sleep and I can hear her screaming. I wake up and have to remind myself she's upstairs safe and even then I'll sometimes poke my head in just to be sure."

"Thought I had heard a mouse last week," Fred mumbled, bumping his brother shoulder with his own. "Why don't you take some of that dreamless sleep potion? That would take care of that."

"I don't need it," Ron said, casting his eyes to the horizon, " Hermione doesn't take it anymore and she went through that—if she doesn't need it I shouldn't—"

"Bunch is bloody martyrs you are," Fred laughed darkly looking at Ron, "she woke up from a nightmare this morning, not the first time either. I think she has them every time she closes her eyes, it's all too fresh."

"Why doesn't she take it then?" Ron asked, confusion scrawled between the lines on his face.

"She doesn't want to worry you two," Fred said simply, "Or perhaps she thinks she's weak if she takes it. Perhaps she doesn't care for the taste—I dunno," Fred said, "But I'll tell you this—And she's say the same—it's not your fault Ron. You did nothing wrong."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes cast down, "did nothing."

"Nothing wrong—make sure you add in that last part," Fred said firmly bumping his shoulder again. " She doesn't blame you and neither do I."

Ron nodded silently. Whatever calming spell he had place in the sea had long since broken. The tide now coming up, the waves licking they're ankles from where they sat in they're odd silence.

"You make her happy," Ron said, finally breaking the spell. "She's always been the happy sort, but you make her happier. I couldn't figure out why she was so sad after the wedding, I thought maybe she was homesick or worried about what we were doing but it makes sense—she was missing you."

Fred soaked in the words; he knew what his time apart had been like, he had hoped it would have been better for Hermione. "Remember what I said at Christmas, where it's only our choice if Hermione asks is to come along for the ride?"

Ron nodded, his shoe kicking a piece of driftwood that had come up in the surf. Fred felt a smile tugging at his lips, "I'll never know what made me so lucky to get that chance twice."

"You and George were always the lucky ones—and you have both ears though so maybe your the lucky one," Ron said, turning and looking at his brother with a smile.

"Let's hope the luck holes then little brother, we've got banks to break into," Fred laughed lightly, " Come on, let's go up to the house and see what they're up to."

"Right," Ron said, getting up and brushing the sand from his pants. "Oh and Fred—"

He turned around, and glanced to see a shadow of mischief in his younger brothers eyes, "Harry and I have taken down our fair share of Death Eaters. If I ever hear Hermione call out again—over another Bellatrix incident or a paper cut, you're a dead man."

"Why is it you lot want me in a body bag so badly?" Fred said, throwing his arm around his brother's shoulder as they head back up the hill.

((*))

Hermione stood from her perch next to the window, watching the white foam of the ocean outside. It was better than pacing the room like she had been doing. Less conspicuous. People don't ask what your thinking about when your staring at the ocean, only when your wearing out the floorboards do you reach that level interrogation.

Tomorrow was the day. She had a black dress and boots, scraps of black lace sewn to it in the cast off grandeur Bellatrix seemed to favor. Tomorrow morning she'd put on those clothes and drink the potion. She'd lace up the boots, walk out the door and start her longest day.

If they were successful—and she knew they'd be successful—they'd get the Horcrux and be one step closer to ending it.

If they weren't successful—you will be. You know how to get out of Gringotts. Truly only way tomorrow isn't successful is Fred still dies—

And that seemed to be what was giving her chills.

She didn't completely regret inviting Fred along. With her banishment of Griphook, she needed someone else who knew what was going to happen. She needed someone she could rely on to cast the imperius curse if needed. She needed to know she wasn't the only one preparing for the thief's downfall. She needed to give him an epic battle sequence in the hope he wouldn't come to the larger battle later that night.

He knew the plan, just as well—If not better—than Harry and Ron. She wasn't a pile of nerves over either of them though. The three of them always got out of scraps. And typically so did Fred.

"You look at the ocean any longer you'll turn into sea foam my little mermaid," Fred joked as he came into the room. He was already in his pajamas, walking towards the water basin Fleur had set up for them, reaching for a hand towel.

"You know if Magical Mermaids were like the Mermaids in the Muggle stories I would be alright with that," Hermione smiled, turning from her posting and grinning at him.

"Less scary in muggle tales?" Fred asked, looking up at her, patting his face dry.

"Very. I mean there are still the mean ones who drown sailors—" Hermione started, " But they made a cartoon movie right before I started Hogwarts. Mum and I went to see it and aside for the fact she risked her life for a human, it didn't seem like a bag gig."

"Well in all fairness," Fred started, walking over and standing behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders while his thumb stroked her spine, easing the tension that had made itself at home. "In all fairness, I'd rather have you on dry land too. Let's not become sea folk."

Hermione smiled to herself, turned around and kissed his cheek, "Deal," she promised, "Although I understand You-Know-Who hasn't gone after the merfolk yet—might not be your worst idea."

Fred flopped on the bed, "Ah but you're forgetting Sunny, this is You-Know-Who's last night. Next time we crawl into bed together Lord Volds is dead and we get to really live."

She leaned the pillows against the headboard and rested against them. "That's true—we just have to survive—"

"Which we will," Fred said, taking her hand in his, tracing small circles in her palm, "We'll survive, we'll make it and then we'll have to see if we love each other in peace time as much as we seem to when all the dark bits are happening."

She rolled her eyes and looked at him with feigned annoyance, "You thinking your going to get bored of me?"

His eyes lit up as he smiled, "Never in your life, Sunshine. If anything peace time will make me love you more."

"Think so?" She asked, taking her hand from his to play with his hair, the feeling of corn silk between her fingers.

"Know so," Fred sighed, his eyes closed while she played on. "I'm rather mad about the girl whose broken into the Ministry of Magic and now Gringotts—I can only imagine the mayhem she'll get into when there's not an axe mad man looming over her shoulder anymore."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, her voice so soft she almost missed the words. She set her hand down, placing it back at home with Fred's.

"When it's all over?" Fred asked, opening one eye. He closed them again, a flicker of peace waving away the strain in his eyebrows; he looked like the boy she had fallen for so long ago now—

"I'm going to sleep in," he said with a grin, flashing a smile as he opened his eyes, "after that—hell, I don't know."

"We did that last time," she said with a grin, squeezing his hand. "Last time, when the dust cleared and things were done the three of us climbed into Gryffindor tower and slept till sunset. Don't think Ron woke up till midnight or so and he went straight back to bed after having a handful of sandwiches Kreature brought up."

"What happens?" Fred asked, confident asking in the future as he was confident she'd share it with him, "Maybe if I know I can plan for it."

"You've just gotten used to spoilers," She smirked, rolling on her side and looking up at him.

"But your going to tell me anyway?" Fred asked with an arched eyebrow, his fingers tucking a way a curl that fell in her eyes.

"I only have so many more spoilers," She sighed, "suppose I can."

"Excellent," he smiled, "I am going to miss when you don't know the future anymore. Sure you don't want to take up divination again?"

"Would you like me to smack a crystal ball against your thick skull?" She asked arching her own eyebrow.

He laughed taking her hand and resting it against his chest, "Never. Please Hermione—tell me."

She laughed at his face, amused at how relaxed and careless he was, trying to burn the memory in her mind, to protect it and keep it safe.

"Well, all those months of hiding and being in the run pay off—Ron, Harry and I were hunted by the press for sport after the dust settled. I think that's one of the reasons they rushed to join the Ministry—they could be safe and sound sequestered in the Auror Academy."

"You didn't go with them?" Fred asked surprised, "I need to put away any fantasy of being with a hot lady wizard cop?"

"You thought I'd actually become an Auror?" Hermione laughed, "Please—I've never wanted that. The Boys went to the Ministry and I went back to Hogwarts."

"Ah—another safe place from the press. You know McGonagall's itching for a reason to skewer Rita Skeeter," he smiled, pausing for a moment. "Would you want to go back again?"

She paused a moment. She had gone through her sixth year twice—which hadn't been bad, but she hadn't enjoyed it any. The thought of doing it again for a seventh—she could do it again, but did she really want to?

"Dunno, makes sense and it's a good move—hidden from the press and getting to live a normal life but—"

"You could work at the shop you know," he grinned, "I know the owner, clever bloke, he could probably find you something. And he'd be itching to hex anyone who tried to bother you."

"I had no idea George cared so much," she smirked, watching the smile fall and the crinkle in his eyes.

"Yes, George," he sighed rolling his eyes. "Quite fond of you he is."

"I'd consider it," she said, "working at the shop."

"Wouldn't alter the post war world if Hermione Granger joined us?" Fred asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Some people would be concerned, but everything's going on so quickly no one would really notice," she answered, "They put Kingsley in as Minister right away and he gets to work cleaning up the mess and everything. Your dad even does a stint in Magical Law Enforcement since Kings knows he can trust him."

"Kingsley gets Dad to put away his muggle toys?" Fred said surprised, "Mum must have been pleased."

"It's only temporary, and really he was over the crimes done against Muggles during the war—had to help with the reconciliation committee. And he likes muggles well enough; has a good heart, he's quite good at it. And I was glad he was in that position—made it easy for me to ask for help finding Mum and Dad."

"That's right—" Fred said, sitting up a little straighter and looking at her, his thumb brushed her hand. "Sunny, you get to see them again. Soon—"

"Found them safe and sound in Australia," she said, "The Boys and I went down to get them last time."

"That's where they are?" Fred started, "you honestly sent your sweet parents away from Death Eaters to the one patch of earth that has so many dangerous things trying to kill you—"

"Oh they're stronger than that-that's a bunch of nonsense," Hermione said with a laugh, "Besides, I thought it would be better to let them live a vacation they've always dreamed of. Made them a little quicker to forgive me in the end."

"So dad moves around in the ministry, you find your family—this sounds too good to be true."

"Well almost, we go to the funerals first though," Hermione muttered, the chill sneaking back into her heart, "Good two weeks of them—."

"But that was last time," Fred said quickly cutting her off, "we got so many of the kids out—maybe it'll only be a week now—a few days—"

"Yeah, maybe," Hermione answered, although the memories were bubbling, no longer tucked away where she'd left then.

An eerie quite spread between them, "what were they like," Fred asked hesitantly,guarding the words, " The funerals?"

Hermione scowled and glared at him, "Really Fred? They were funerals, what do you think they were like?"

"I've only been to Dumbledores; we were only two when my uncles died and I'm too young to remember the grandparents. Muriel refuses to die and even then George and I won't go on principle."

"They were—funerals," Hermione tried, scrambling for a better word. "And the three of us, we had to go to everyone of them. Well we didn't have to—but we felt like we did," she sighed, cringing at the memories.

Two weeks in one of Ginny's borrowed dresses. Feeling so dehydrated after some funerals where she had cried until there weren't any tears left. Other funerals where she had been stone face, looking at the floor trying to remember whose funeral they were sitting at, if she had actually known them—

She could remember Fred's the best. It was the first of her people.

The family and close friends tucked into the first row in the Great Hall. Gryffindor House assembled behind them—the majority she knew but there was a good number from the twins first two years at Hogwarts who had come to pay their respects to the prankster prince who had learned his tricks at their expense. What seats were left were taken by those that had fallen for the store.

The pudgy owner of Zonkos had come in right before the service began and laid a wreath of dungbombs at the foot of Fred's casket.

Even in that timeline, Hermione remembered feeling so abandoned. She wasn't alone, she knew that. The entire family felt it. Fred was gone and he shouldn't have been. He should have been there with them, making irreverent jokes about the officiant to George.

"Oi, Hermione, come back to me," Fred said, his voice making her snap out of it. Her eyes focused back on his face and she gripped his hand tightly.

"I'm still here," he soothed, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you about them."

"Fred—"

"I promise Hermione," he said, bending down and kissing the top of her head.

"Then please—don't come. If something happens I—"

He pulled her closer, silencing her with his hug, muttering in her hair. "What?"

"I have a plan—don't worry about me. Just make sure you survive tomorrow night and I'll do the same."

"What's your plan?" She asked, poking her head up, falling back to her place on the bed.

He winked playfully, "It's a surprise, but trust me when I say it starts far away from Hogwarts."

"You promise?" It seemed too good to be true. Weeks of him refusing to abandon her in the battle and the last night he finally caved?

"I promise we'll make it through this, we're just taking the long way round," He answered, pulling the blanket up and resting it on her shoulder.

"What are you going to do?" Fred asked, his voice soft, playing into the sounds of the waves outside, "I've told you—the Dark One is gone, the sun finally rises, what's Hermione Granger going to do next?"

A smile spilled on her face. She had known peace time for six months last time, it has been such a brief time but there was something expansive about a period of time where people weren't chasing you down to kill you.

"That's the great unknown," she smiled, looking up at him. "We'll go get Mum and Dad, see Ron and Harry off the academy but after that—could go back to Hogwarts, could go work in a joke shop, could go off the radar completely."

"I like that last one," he said, sneaking his hand in hers and resting it between them. "I take back what I said—I don't want to sleep when this is all over. I want to go on adventures with you."

"What are adventures without Death Eaters lurking in the corners like?" She asked, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to it."

"Oh I'll help you," he winked, "first one is the two of us, back in Majorca in that little cottage by the sea side."

"Dancing on the square?" Hermione asked, painting the picture behind closed eyes. She could see it, the two of them laughing and falling into each other as the sunset and music played.

"On the square, along the pier, in the moonlight—" he crooned, "Siestas, hikes, afternoons in a boat on the coast."

Her eyes opened and she gave him a look, "Look at you giving us a good, quiet, little life."

"The best life Hermione, I'm going to give you the very best life," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "We're going to disappear into the sunset you and me; and enjoy every moment of it."

Her eyes darted up to scan his face. There wasn't a hint of a secret. There was also no trace of a worry. He didn't have the face he wore during the day on, he looked carefree. As though he was already tucked under the protective light of the Spanish Sun.

"What are you thinking?" She asked, watching his mouth twitch to a smile as she said the words.

"That forever a not good enough for you Hermione," he said, opening his eyes and smiling down on her, "But at the very least it's a place to start."

She leaned forward and kissed Fred soundly. He hadn't been expecting it, she knew that much, but he had a hand in her hair, another on her side.

There was so much riding on tomorrow; tomorrow would determine the life she would have for every day after. Nothing rested on tonight, on this moment, on the two of them.

"Hermione-" he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

She answered again with a kiss in the corner of his mouth "What are you thinking?" Fred asked his eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering.

"I'm not," she sighed, falling into his arms.

AN:

To my American Readers, Happy Thanksgiving!

To everyone else: Look! I kept to a deadline!

Some quick things:

1. You can decide what, if anything, happens between this and the start of next chapter. In my head they have a nice little make out and go to bed. I'm just not a fan of writing the make out scenes-it's just uncomfortable to me, like I'm watching them and taking notes while they have a moment.

2. A few more changes to the timeline! Gringotts heist is in the next chapter. I'm excited to write what's coming! And the Azkaban bit... I've talked this through with a couple of my friends who are reading the piece and I think we're going to flesh this out well enough to where it works. Is it impractical like George said? Most assuredly. But can we see Fred doing this? Yup. And will Hermione kill him before the wall does? It's possible.

Hoping to update during the Holidays. I might do another Christmas one shot like I did last year—TBD. Keep an eye on the page, I promise some level of activity by New Years.

I recently went through and added up all the pages (each chapters an individual document on my google docs) and I was blown away by all the hundreds of pages that make up this story. Thank you for sticking with me for so long! I know how invested you are and I promise we will end this strong. Thank you for all your support. I have the best readership, you are all truly amazing.

Until then, may your days be merry and bright— KH